I Found You After
by bullet.sophia
Summary: A Finnick Odair and Annie Cresta fan fiction. "Again, it had been years. A lot of things had happened."
1. I Can Write The Saddest Lines Tonight

_**I Found You After**_ - _A Finnick Odair and Annie Cresta FanFiction_

_I Can Write The Saddest Lines Tonight_

Finnick would've found it funny if his father entered his room and sniggers over the fact that he was going back to school. He was already eighteen years old and the backpack that slung over his shoulders could've made his dad roar with laughter. He remembered clearly that Frank would've wanted him to work in _Brueler's Dock_ like he did and eventually own a fishing business that would give Mr. Brueler a run for his money.

But of course, that was easily forgotten. Circumstances and fate didn't let the Odair household ever plan of building their own shack near the beach, nor even think of a better name than _Brueler's Dock_.

Although unlike his father, Natalia Odair would've appreciated the fact that he woke up at five thirty in the morning to prepare for his first day in class again. She would've woken up at five a.m. and see him off for his morning run and by the time he returns, a hot bowl of porridge would be there waiting for him on the dining table while he could hear her humming in the bathroom preparing his bath.

Finnick could also easily picture Dylan, his fourteen year-old brother, running down in the now grand staircase of their home just to impress him, and that even though not allowed to drink coffee, his adrenaline rush always left their parents in a slight disbelief.

"I'll race you to the gate, Fin!" Dylan would always say. He also took a liking in reminding Finnick of how many times he had beaten him. Forty two, to be exact. But of course Finnick would retaliate by saying that he was not even wearing his shoes yet when he sped off and announce the start of the race.

Finnick wondered why it was all so easy to remember every detail as if it all happened just yesterday if not a few minutes ago. He straightened out his blue shirt and looked back at his reflection in the mirror. Already, Finnick could see the lines of weariness drawing on his face. These were the moments he was thankful for a Capitol makeover. He combed his hair, put on his sneakers—with Dylan's laughter running through his brains—and finally took a deep breath. There was a first time for everything, he realized.

So, as he strode past the long corridor of his home in the Victor's Village, forgetting the memories haunting him day and night and unconsciously running his hand through his hair, he couldn't quite believe what his life had came out to be.

He was a Victor. He survived the Games.

And yet as he stepped outside to the sea breeze of District Four, he had never imagined someone as vulnerable as him at the moment.

* * *

><p>Annie didn't know what was happening with all of the students of the Government School. It was a Wednesday. And Wednesdays were the days they usually serve Tuesday's leftovers and the seniors had History classes. Nothing whatsoever was great about a Wednesday—except maybe if their teacher, Mr. Grover, stopped threatening them with fish liver.<p>

But of course, sending this kind of euphoria in the boring District Four Government School was not Mr. Grover and fish livers. As she looked from her locker to the oncoming person walking in the corridor, understanding caught up on her. She didn't look surprised nor even _felt_ surprised. She knew this day was coming and that really, the emotion that overwhelmed her was doubt. She cannot understand why this had to happen. He didn't belong here. Not anymore, at least. Annie didn't know what good this setting could give to their school and to their District. It had been four years since he won and Annie was so sure that he would clearly prefer the Capitol life.

It had been four years since he won and not once after it was he able to bring home a new Victor for Four. Eight kids died in his hands because of his lack of self-discipline. He was better off from their District.

Silently, holding his head high, as if his popularity amongst the whole of Panem was not enough to prove his worth, he walked past Annie and her still opened locker. She was not sure as the other students were making unnecessary giggling and noises, but he greeted her with a small "hello" and nodded in her direction. Annie looked away, undermining the fact that her eyes had made contact to those same shade of green he possessed. She eliminated the little thoughts that crossed her mind for a few seconds about them reconciling their friendship. Again, it had been years. A lot of things had happened.

Closing her locker, with her best friend Linda Simmons, giving her a small smile, Annie walked in the opposite direction Finnick Odair was roving, wondering in her head how in the world someone could emit such amount of what only seem to be the stench of the Capitol.

* * *

><p>"How's your first day?" A smirking Danny Cross clapped Finnick's shoulder as he made his way towards him from the small shack at <em>Brueler's Dock<em>. Danny's been working on the docks for years and from observing him hauling and tying, Finnick could not even think of anyone who could do a better job than Danny. Not even his father, Frank, could compete.

"That bad, Fin?" He continued as Finnick didn't respond and instead sat on the washed-out bench, removing his backback. "It would get better, don't worry."

"I highly doubt it."

"Oh, c'mon, Fin. How bad could it get? You are Finnick Odair!" Danny sat down beside him and laughed. "You of all people should know that. _You are the star of the Capitol_."

Finnick scowled and jokingly punched him. "That's the point, Danny. I cannot walk around the school without everyone gaping at me. It didn't help that Johnny couldn't keep his mouth shut."

"He loves basking in your glory."

"Unfortunately..."

Danny stared at the distance, the sky tainted with pink and orange hues. This time of the day, Elizabeth would be on her way from the market to bring him a tall bottle of milk from her dairy shop at the Wet Market and a small bundle of sea weed bread. What he would give to spend his lifetime with her...

"How's Liz?" Finnick asked, as if reading his mind.

Ever since Finnick's return from the Capitol a few days ago, he took the liberty of looking after him. Finnick, Danny had to admit, didn't seem like himself anymore ever since he started going to the Capitol for a few months in a year. He didn't know why Finnick had to go back, but it all seemed like some sort of a privilege. Anyhow, it's as if Finnick would prefer coming home in the Victor's Village knowing that only an empty house would welcome him.

"She's probably on her way now to deliver some snacks. I forgot to tell that you're here so might as well we share whatever she's brought."

"Nah, don't bother. I'm also on my way home. I just wanted to drop by."

Danny hesitated as he watched Finnick stand up and slung the straps of his bag on his shoulders. The young boy had always been like a younger brother to him. And he knew Lizzie, despite her small knowledge of Finnick's past, wouldn't mind having him on the house even just for a few days until Finnick can hold himself together again. Danny knew he couldn't heavily rely on Mags as she needed to rest, that old age of hers. But really, it was not a big deal to him. It was Finnick who made a big deal out of things.

"Finnick—"

"I know what you're going to say, Dan. Don't say it. I'll be fine, I promise."

Danny was not surprised. How many times did Finnick defer his help? How many times did he deny that he needed a hand? But then again, he was _Finnick Odair_. It even came from his own lips that Finnick Odair cannot show any signs of weakness, any signs of helplessness.

"Of course," Danny reluctantly agreed. "As always."

Finnick grinned at him and started to wave. As he did though, and as if right on cue, Elizabeth Fisher came running down from the other side of the docks and held Finnick in an embrace.

"So Danny wasn't lying! You are back!" She exhaled as they let go.

"Hello, Liz." Finnick chuckled.

"Well? How are you?" Elizabeth pulled off his backpack—Finnick complained but Elizabeth ignored him (to Danny' amusement)—and pulled him back to sit again with her and Danny on the bench.

"I'm... well, I'm okay, Liz."

"What did the Capitol want? Can't get enough of you, yeah?" She started pulling out the snacks from her linen bag and each gave Finnick and Danny bottles of milk and bundles of bread each.

"I heard from Linda Simmons that you were really at the school so I packed quite a lot. She dropped by at the store with Annie and—"

"Lizzie..." Danny murmured beside her.

"Oh, Fin. I'm so sorry."

Finnick chuckled lightly as he took a bite on his first bread. He shrugged and looked back at the couple. "'S okay, I saw her at school today."

"And?" Elizabeth inquired, receiving another look from Danny.

"Well," Finnick gulped the bread he was chewing. "She didn't glare at me. At least."

"Well, what did I tell you? She'll get over it somehow." Elizabeth replied happily and clapped her hands together.

"Not soon enough." Finnick replied.

Elizabeth bit her lip as he stared down at him. She looked back at Danny and he offered her a warning look: _Don't push it, Lizzie_.

She took a deep breath and sighed. "It would get better, don't worry."

Finnick slightly cringed as he heard her. He wondered for how many times did he have to hear it before it would finally sink in.

* * *

><p>Linda Simmons tried her might to be the best friend for Annie. She was aware at how popular and beautiful Annie Cresta was and that no matter how much the latter tried to be modest about it, it cannot cover up the fact that Linda Simmons would always come in second. Of course, she didn't mind. She didn't want to be in Annie's position anyway.<p>

It didn't come as a surprise to her that Finnick took a second look at her best friend when they were seven years old. Quite the pair they were, Linda recalled. But as she thought about it again, they never really became a couple. Yet.

Ever since Finnick won the Hunger Games, Annie started to drift away from him. Like being associated with Finnick Odair was the last thing Annie wanted. And being the best friend that she was, Linda Simmons supported Annie on her silent yet obvious hate on Finnick. But seeing Finnick Odair today at the Government School made Linda think twice about Annie's reluctance to the Victor. He was handsome, obviously, but that was not the point. Linda couldn't help but wonder why can't Annie see his efforts?

"You coming, Linds?" she heard Annie not far from her. After getting their milk rations from Elizabeth, that beautiful red-haired girl in the market, they decided to drop by at the West Beach where Annie usually spends time before her father docks at _Brueler's_. "It's almost night time, let's get going. My father might already be there."

"Of course." Linda shook her skirt to remove the beach sands and followed Annie to the shack not far away. They were silent, unusual for this routine of theirs, but Linda knew that Finnick's return to District Four bothered Annie a lot and she knew better than to distress her even more.

But of course, Linda thought as they got nearer to the shack, fate wouldn't take a lying down on Annie. Or Finnick for that matter.

"Oh, there you are, sweetheart." Willard Cresta bellowed at his daughter, while still clasping on the shoulder of a slightly nervous looking Finnick. "Look who I found here with Danny and Liz! Didn't mention he was coming back, did you?"

"Hello, daddy." Annie whispered silently. She nodded towards Elizabeth and Danny while casting Finnick a millisecond's worth of eye contact.

Linda wanted to roll her eyes and shake Annie to wake her senses.

But then again, she was Linda Simmons.

She was Annie Cresta's best friend. She supported the latter's silent yet obvious hate.

* * *

><p><em>AN: Reviews are love. They keep writers going and well, er, writing! :)<em>


	2. Laugh At This Clumsy Boy Who Loves You

_Chapter 2: Laugh At This Clumsy Boy Who Loves You_

There were a lot of rules to be followed in District Four. If it was for the _Summer Haul_, all families were required to participate in welcoming the fishermen back to shore. For the _Annual Bonfire_, the fisherman with the largest haul get to light the fire pit, an honor that should be distinguished by all District Four citizens. Then there's also the _Les Larmes de Sirene_ where young girls were expected to perform basic chores at home before going to school and then wear dried sea weed on their hair as an accessory.

But the most basic rule of all, in which a certain District Four citizen had forgotten, was that a student should never be late for a class. Especially Mr. Grover's Fish Biology class. So as David Gray silently tried to enter the classroom, there was already a brewing _fact_ in the back of his mind that he will get reprimanded for the tardiness he didn't even want to commit.

"I do not want your explanation, whether it is invalid or not, Mr. Gray. So sit down and see yourself in detention later." Mr. Grover spoke while writing notes on the blackboard which most of the class were already busy copying.

No one exactly knew how the teacher was able to see, as his back was turned from the class and to the door, but Mr. Grove did. As always. Not one late student ever escaped his sight.

"I'm still waiting Mr. Gray."

David rolled his eyes and slowly made his way towards the seat in the back of the class.

"And I saw that."

David ignored the latter comment and continued to walk. It wasn't his fault that he was late in the first place. He grumbled and finally sat behind his desk and tried to listen to the class. But of course, at age seventeen, turning eighteen in a few months, he had the same attention span like all the other seniors in the school.

Three seats from him, there was Johnny Pearson playing with his pen and most clearly ignoring the lessons. There was also Linda Simmons (to Pearson's left), blonde with big gray eyes, playing with her hair and even with her back turned to him, David knew she was also dead bored. Sitting in front of her was Finnick Odair, who had returned yesterday from the Capitol, looking very intently at Mr. Grover that David became unsure if he was actually listening or daydreaming. David then turned to look at the person to the victor's right. But he suddenly regretted the move as he landed his eyes on the figure he longed to avoid.

Annie Cresta. That Annie Cresta and her long brown hair and sea green eyes that cost him detention.

David had always had the composure of a gentleman. But when she was around, it was as if he wasn't himself. This morning, when she still seemed to be unhappy with Finnick's return, all David wanted to do was to help her again. But he just found himself sitting alone in the deserted school lawn, restraining to bang his head on the floor, and eventually becoming late to Mr. Grover's Fish Biology class, contemplating why she hated Finnick in the first place.

Yesterday, though, he tried to console her bad mood. Linda told him that Finnick's return caught Annie off guard and was menacingly irritable the whole day. He was patient with her but she was, well, _irritable, _that not even freshly cooked crab soup could brighten her day.

Okay, David had to admit, giving her crab soup was lame but he knew it was her favourite and was hoping it would work. But she remained silent and uncooperative the whole day. After classes, David offered to walk her home but she refused, stating that she wanted to be alone. Although when he met Danny Cross in the town square that night, he mentioned something about Annie and Finnick visiting _Brueler's Dock_.

So she lied to him?

David didn't know the specifics of why Annie loathed Finnick. He could clearly remember their more youthful days when he would see Finnick and Annie together. Not really the best of friends, but friends; civil, respectful, and comfortable.

The Finnick and Annie he saw now were disdainful and aloof. As if neither would want to admit they were friends. Especially Annie.

Now, this did not mean he didn't like it. Heck, it was working to his advantage. No one in District Four could deny the beauty that was Annie Cresta. She might not be as striking and provocative as the other senior, Cathryn Highburn, but Annie, with even all the expletives considered, was lovely and innocently beautiful. She didn't even need to try.

"Mr. Odair," Mr. Grover's low voice disrupted David's thoughts. "As this is your line of expertise, what do you call this knife?"

David turned his head to the bronzed hair.

"Uh..." Finnick scratched his head, clearly uncomfortable. "That's a hollow ground knife. One of the sharpest knives for fishing."

Mr. Grover nodded and continued his pace around the class.

David wanted to snort but he didn't. He was much better than all those men jealous of _The Great Finnick Odair_. Of course he was obviously a favourite. Everyone knew how harsh the Capitol would punish those who wrong Finnick, the teachers included. But as it wasn't in David's character to be judgemental, he will be giving Finnick Odair the benefit of the doubt. But giving him the benefit of the doubt wouldn't make Finnick less intolerable.

Because Finnick, for one, was hated by Annie. And David, ruffling his brown hair as he stared at Annie, wanted to know why.

* * *

><p>THERE were a few guidelines (according to Linda) as to how one would treat the so many men asking you to be their date for the Annual Bonfire. It would be very understandable if they were asking a day before or a week before the celebrations. But as Annie tried to find her way towards her locker, she can't help but feel the wrath following her. Cathryn had been receiving the same attention but Annie knew how much she loved it.<p>

But summer wouldn't be for two more months. Asking her, Annie, to the Bonfire _two months_ before the event was unfathomable.

"Relax, Annie. What's new about some sophomores asking you to the Bonfire? As if that never happened before." Linda patted her shoulder as Annie switched her _Fish Biology_ book with _History of Panem_.

"Then why couldn't they take a hint?" Annie huffed and slammed her locker door shut. "I've never been in the Bonfire with a date. And how could they think about the Bonfire when two weeks after that would be the reaping?"

Linda shrugged and led the way towards their classroom in the second floor. "Well, maybe that's the idea of the Bonfire, to keep the nerves all calmed before—"

"No, I beg to disagree. The Bonfire is the first stage for the offering."

"Annie..."

"It's true Linds. It's as if we are celebrating because two of the District's children will die in two weeks time."

"Don't say that. This year might be Four's year, you know."

"Yeah, like _he_ ever did some work on that."

"Annie..."

"And it's not a simple competition between the Districts, Linda. It's mur—"

But someone grabbed her by the shoulder, spun her around and whispered, "Careful what you say in public."

Annie looked up and saw a dark look on Finnick Odair's face. For a second there, she thought he was going to smile, a twitch on his lips told her so. But instantly, he broke their eye contact and stepped back.

"And as to the tributes, I think I'll take my chances this year. Johnny had been reading a lot about medicinal plants that could help. Maybe I should ask him. What do you say Johnny? Mind helping me mentor this year?" Finnick turned towards the curly haired boy, slightly a few inches smaller than him.

Johnny rolled his eyes. "Don't mind him, Annie. He's been eating sea weed salad for the past days. He's lacking the nutrients to think straight."

"Apparently." Annie agreed. The bell rang twice, signalling the start of the next class.

"Shall we go?" Linda suggested to the three. They began to walk, with Linda and Finnick up front and Annie and Johnny following suit. "And don't just grab people like that, Finnick. It's rude."

"Well," Finnick chuckled. "I'm used to all the grabbing."

Johnny sniggered and wolf-whistled.

It was now Linda's turn to roll her eyes. "Boys."

"You have a lot of problems, Simmons." Johnny told her as they climbed up the stairs. "Just because you haven't yet received an invitation for the Bonfire, you can't just all be bitter about boys you know."

"Oh, please Johhny, as if you could get a girl for yourself."

"Who said about me asking? Girls will be the one to ask _me_."

"Are you sure Finnick's the one been eating too much sea weed? Or has your brain just turned to be the exact same green glob?"

"Feisty, I like that. We've got a winner, here, Fin."

Finnick chuckled lightly.

"Shut up. And I am not bitter. Just because Annie's got like, what, eleven invitations—"

"Eleven?" Finnick asked, looking at Annie now.

"Record breaker." Johnny agreed and patted Annie on the shoulder. "I heard Cathryn just got seven."

"And to think we still have two months." Linda added.

"Oh, it's not a competition." Annie slid past the three and made her way inside their classroom where few of their classmates were already seating. She chose the one in the farthest to avoid seating beside more people than she wanted. Linda took the left seat and Johnny the front. Finnick settled himself in the desk in front of Linda. Of course by more people, Annie meant people like Finnick.

"So Fin," Linda once again started the conversation. Annie busied herself and pulled out things from her bag. "How's the Capitol?"

If Johnny thought Linda was bitter, Annie could say her best friend's an idiot. Hadn't she remembered they hated Finnick? Or she, Annie, hated the man? Wasn't it enough that they, Finnick and Johnny, followed them from Fish Biology and then he, Finnick, aggressively spun her around to be scolded? Why would she still entertain them?

"Well, it was alright, I guess." Finnick shrugged. He looked cautiously, Annie thought, at his best friend and then for a few passing seconds, towards her. "Same old, same old."

"Oh, how I wish I could step foot in there!" Linda said excitedly.

"Oh, I wouldn't wish that." Finnick mumbled. Annie noticed the slight frown on his face as she heard Johnny tapping his pen loudly and turning his head in another direction.

"You are so mean! You don't want to share your luxuries, Odair." Linda jokingly punched him by the shoulder. Finnick laughed.

"Well," he started. "We can't always get what we want."

* * *

><p>HIS classes started the way Finnick had hoped. After Fish Biology, Johnny told him that they would be classmates with Linda and of course Annie in History. He didn't know what to feel but Johnny reassured him he would be alright. Annie was just, anyhow, a girl. After that, Finnick didn't know what to feel about Johnny and that statement. Just a girl? But he let that pass. He heard Annie ranting once more about the Capitol and he was just thankful he got to stop her before things could get worse.<p>

But it was after the four of them came and sat at the History classroom when everything started to go downhill. There was always Linda and her big mouth and asked about a lot of things concerning his Capitol visits. No one knew about his trade except for Mags. Johnny had a hunch but Finnick neither confirmed nor denied. Worst of all, though, aside from the still indifferent attitude of Annie towards him, was David Gray. As how Linda put it, if there was anyone who could give Finnick a run for his money, it was David.

David not only possessed a more refined attribute compared to Finnick, but David Gray, with his dark brown hair, brown eyes, and lean figure (Linda's way of speech was taking a toll in the wireworks of Finnick's brain) also liked Annie. Of course Finnick had to remain distant and uncaring when he approached their group and asked Annie to the Bonfire.

"Well, I don't know if you already have plans, but I really hope to spend this year's Bonfire with you."

"You'd be the twelfth." Johnny sniggered. Well, his best friend could really make a nice comeback.

David curiously frowned at him, but turned his attention back to Annie.

She smiled nicely to him, uncomfortable with the situation as Finnick noticed how she tucked her hair behind her ears, and told him she'll think about it.

After David left and took a seat far from the group, Linda let out a squeal that earned her a scowling look from Annie.

"Oh come on Annie, you couldn't possibly say no to him! Unless of course someone..."

"Please be quiet, Linda." Annie mumbled.

Linda kept quiet but when Finnick turned to look at her, she was still grinning like mad and winked at him. Finnick rolled his eyes as he felt a kick on his chair. The next thing he knew, as their History teacher started her lecture, a small piece of paper—slightly crumpled—landed on his desk. He slowly unfolded the paper. He looked back at Linda and made a face. She innocently shrugged at him.

_What are you waiting for? For Mr. Grover to marry? Believe me that won't happen. Get a move on Finnick or you'll have the rest of the District to compete with._

Finnick shook his head and started to write. _What are you talking about?_ With a glance towards their teacher who was now busy reading an excerpt from their books, he threw the paper back. After a few minutes, the paper landed back to his desk.

_Oh, please! I may talk very fast but that doesn't mean I'm stupid. You know what I'm talking about. Get a move on. NOW. _

Finnick gripped his pen tighter and wrote back, restraining himself not to write _Yes, I will ask her soon_. Instead, he wrote something that was safer: _This is not the best time. And don't ask me when. I heard thirteen's not a lucky number._

He pretended to yawn to be able to stretch his arms (and that led Johnny to chuckle at him). He threw the paper again, hoping it to be the last time. When it got back on his desk once more, he rolled his eyes. Linda could really hit a nerve sometimes.

_Touche. But don't say I didn't warn you_. _So don't stop me from singing Annie and David's love for each other. Annie and David kissing on a ship, K-I-S-S-I-N-G..._

Finnick finally tore the paper to bits.

* * *

><p>WHAT could possibly be the best word to describe Finnick Odair?<p>

Johnny Pearson thought as he lounged in the large white pool recliner of his best friend's house in the Victor's Village.

There were terrible things he had been hearing since Finnick's victory on the 65th Hunger Games and the recent he had just learned was about the infamous escapades with different women in the Capitol. Johnny wouldn't brag about knowing Finnick all his life, but as it was true, he couldn't help but wonder why Finnick seemed to already be tampered. Finnick had always been the stronger person between the two, and Johnny never imagined Finnick to be, well, shallow.

"Enjoying yourself, Johnny?" Finnick asked him after a swimming his final lap. He rested his arms on the pools edge and chuckled lightly.

"Well, it's not every day I get to relax, you know. My father's been telling me loads about fishing lately. I lost track when he was saying something about the blood and the spleen. There I was thinking I had enough gore at Mr. Grover's class."

He watched as Finnick pushed himself up and took the white towel that served as his pillow. He scowled at his best friend but he was thoroughly ignored. Finnick sat on the other recliner and dried himself.

"Mr. Grover's class is the worst. What could we not know about fish?" Finnick said. "We've been with fishes all our lives."

"And you are starting to smell like one too."

"Funny, that one coming from you."

"Aww, c'mon Fin. Can't you take a joke now? You've been gone five months and this becomes of your sense of humor?"

"Shut up."

"You didn't even get to see Linda at the _Les Larmes_. There was a ridiculous sea weed knot on her hair. Bless the sea horse it was confusing as to which was her real hair bun."

"You know," Finnick said as he laid back on the recliner, "You might find yourself in a sticky situation with Simmons, with the way you tease her all the time."

Johnny pretended to gag. "Oh please, I have some taste."

"So would you rather date Cathryn?"

"What? No way, that hag." Johnny paused for a moment and thought. "Maybe Liz..."

Finnick threw him back the towel and sniggered. Johnny scowled.

"Not Liz, John, never Liz. If you want to live a long life, stay away from her. Danny can dislocate all your bones for you."

"Well, what about you, Mr. Dapper You? Would you date Highburn?"

"Well I don't know about dapper, seeing that David has that written all over his face..."

Johnny chuckled loudly and sat on the recliner, finally facing Finnick.

"What is your problem, Pearson?" Finnick snapped.

But Johnny couldn't help laughing. It was all too funny to see Finnick react that way. It was like seeing him with Flickerman while answering all those Capitol love letters and throwing kisses away to the audience. What was his best friend playing at?

"Seriously, Finnick. Stop it." Johnny finally said, wiping the tears from his eyes. "Don't be such a cow."

"Oh, who's being a cow?" Finnick stood straight now, a threatening look on his face.

"Well you are! First you get all sweet and sugary with the Capitol women and then here you are now jealous of David Dapper Gray. I mean, this is not you! Not you at all."

"So what are you saying exactly?"

Johnny noticed the still angry look on his best friend's face. He cleared his throat and started to be more serious. Angering a victor couldn't be good for anyone's health.

"All I am saying is that," Johnny looked at him intently, wanting to get the meaning to come across. "You are stronger than this, Finnick. And you deserve better."

Finnick laid back, his hands behind his head, and turned away from Johnny.

"You deserve her, Finnick," Johnny continued, a small smile forming on his lips, hoping that Finnick could welcome this fact a lot of people had already known. "So don't punish yourself. You still deserve Annie."


	3. I'm Not Sure, I Understand Only a Little

_Chapter 3: I'm Not Sure, I Understand Only a Little, I Can Hardly See_

(I'm Not Sure)

Saturday mornings at District Four were Finnick's favourite. First, there were no classes and home works were not due until Monday; second, he could wake up whenever he wanted to no matter how late; and lastly, he gets to spend time with his friends on the beach and basically do nothing.

But because of his five month absence from Four, it seemed to Finnick that his friends—or rather friend of the moment, Danny Cross—had other plans.

"Wakey time, Finnie!" Danny knocked loudly on his bedroom door before eventually coming in and drawing the blanket off from the Victor's sleeping figure. He also took the liberty of dramatically pulling the curtains aside and let the morning light enter the room.

"I can hear you, Danny, damn it!" Finnick finally cracked after Danny shouted another, pleasant, yet somewhat exuberant "Good Morning" right beside his ear.

"Time to stretch those legs, kiddo! We've got work to do."

"_You've_ got work to do." Finnick groaned as he sat grumpily on his bed, his lids still heavy.

"Well, well, well... Is Finnick Odair too weak to handle the pier?" Danny mocked.

"I'm even too weak to handle going down the stairs." Finnick rolled his eyes and slumped back once again.

"What?" Danny snorted and now started to pull Finnick off the bed. "What did you do last night? Did Johnny make you stay up late? Oh, c'mon, Fin!"

Danny put his hands on his waist, a little bit confused and angry. Finnick never passed a chance to work on the docks before.

"It's just—oh don't look at me like that, Danny! It's a Saturday for the whale's sake! Why do I need to wake up this early? What time is it, huh, seven thirty?"

"Six, actually"

"Oh for heavens—six o'clock in the morning!"

Finnick pulled back the forgotten blanket over his body and tried to drown out Danny's complaints.

"Waking up in six in the morning has never been a favourite hobby of mine. See your way out."

Danny chuckled and scratched his head. "So I'm betting it wasn't Johnny who kept you up last night."

Finnick snorted, wanting nothing more but for the _intruder_ to finally get out of his house.

"It was Annie, wasn't it? Were you thinking about her again?"

Danny knew it was unfair saying that seeing how... disturbed Finnick was since his Games. But Finnick cannot live like that anymore. Not when Danny's there to protect him from himself.

Though at that moment, Danny was more particularly having a hard time trying not to smirk when Finnick suddenly awoke and glared at him for a good two seconds—his expression explicitly telling the older that he will pay for that remark. He then grudgingly got off the bed and into his large bathroom, ego seemingly tainted.

"So," Danny heard Finnick muffled from inside, "How many boats today?"

Danny shook his head and finally let out laugh.

* * *

><p>"YOU'RE late today, daddy." Annie frowned as Willard Cresta slowly climbed down the rickety stairs of their house and let out a huge yawn. She was already preparing breakfast and usually her father won't be there yawning and stretching and looking all tired and sleepy.<p>

"Well the young lads seem to be very excited for the Bonfire they tend to be so competitive than merely be enthusiastic while fishing. I never understood why and I could never really comply."

"Well, they get to light the bonfire, that's why. If they have the largest haul for the season..." Annie rolled her eyes.

"Of course you're not easily impressed, my little pearl. Just like your mother." Mr. Cresta grinned and sat down on the wooden chair of their dining place, a mere ten feet away from the kitchen where Annie was busy cooking.

"I wonder how the young boys in the school react to your indifference." Annie's father continued to tease. It became some sort of a routine for Willard to ask Annie about "her" boys almost every other breakfast. It didn't bother Annie before but lately, his jokes about her settling down didn't seem like jokes at all. It was as if he was making sure she'd have somebody to take care of her; like he was reminding her that he too, like her mother, would be gone soon. And Annie didn't like it.

"Your mother wasn't as excited when I lit the bonfire when we were your age. I remember she purposely left the party just when I was lighting the pit. There I was hoping she'd see me." Annie's father continued. "It didn't help that I beat her father, _your _grandpa Earl, for the haul."

"Well that's really someway to impress a girl, daddy—beating the in-law."

She placed some spoonfuls of scrambled eggs on the two plates that were already laid out on the table. She then tore the brown paper bag that held freshly baked bread. Annie was supposed to take some sea weed rolls but opted for the loaf as she thought of making sea weed soup later for lunch.

"Are you still coming to the docks with me?" Mr. Cresta asked as they both started to eat.

"Sure," Annie replied, "I have nothing to do anyhow."

Mr. Cresta chuckled. "You'd bring me lunch, of course?"

Annie rolled her eyes but nodded.

"Good. I really hate to dine in the market today. Nasty things I hear when they gossip. I'm surprised the District Guards haven't had the hold of those sea urchins! Although," Annie heard her father snigger. "I did hear something about Danny wanting to finally marry Liz. Whaddya say, my pearl?"

"Well it's about time." Annie shrugged.

"Oh, remember the scandal they made? Living together without even getting married? Now, not that I approve or anything, but I've been telling time and again to all the others at the market that Danny and Liz are of age. They can do anything! And those kids are responsible. Remember how they took care of poor Finnick after his family's death?"

Annie stopped her fork midway and blinked. "Of course. That was, well... It was terrible. I mean, what happened to Finnick."

Mr. Cresta clicked his tongue. "Well Danny sorted the lad, at least. And you, of course you helped didn't you, Annie? And the rest of your friends?"

"Well... Johnny mostly."

"Ah, well... that should teach all of us a lesson, my pearl: never abandon your friends."

Annie looked up at his father and he winked at her as he unfolded his napkin and placed it on his lap. Annie believed that her father was quite aware of how much he had hit a nerve right there.

After a while, unsuccessful in eliciting some sort of a response from Annie, Mr. Cresta cleared his throat and flawlessly changed the topic.

"Well, I do hope the lads are done competing with each other by the time I get to the docks. I would want to sail without some random boat speeding up on me."

Annie nodded, finding her composure once more. "Still, be careful daddy."

"Oh, don't I always? Now about lunch..."

* * *

><p>ANNIE sighed deeply as she washed the morning dishes. Ever since the death of her mother when she was nine, Annie somewhat took over the household works. Although she must admit that they were very easy chores. Her father could afford some time off from fishing as the money he earned for two days of sailing was enough to last them for a week's worth of expenses—if not more. It also helped that her father was a very skilled fisherman. He had spent most of his time at the sea during his younger days and basically learned all the techniques in fishing by just watching and observing the fishermen back then. And with nothing else to do in the District except to fish, her father made sure he succeed to become one of the best.<p>

And he was.

Willard Cresta, who left almost an hour or so ago from a rather uncomfortable breakfast, reminded her to enjoy the rest of the morning like he would be since he would be fishing.

"Don't wear yourself out my pearl. It's a Saturday! Have fun! Why don't you visit Finnick for a change?"

It took a lot of effort for Annie not to roll her eyes.

It wasn't foreign to anyone within a mile radius of their house that Willard wanted Annie to marry Finnick Odair. And how, bless their souls, the Odairs wanted Finnick for her as well. It was an unwritten arrangement between the families as both were very fond of each other's child. That and the fact that the Odairs lived just next door (until Finnick won in the Games and had to transfer to the other side of the District in the Victor's Village) and were basically like a part of the family.

All of those arrangements were a joke for Finnick and Annie. They never became the best of friends nor did they become enemies. They were just friends—as simple and as plain as some random beach sea shell.

Annie grew up seeing Finnick every morning, sometimes even walking alongside him and his brother, Dylan, as they made their way towards the school. Sometimes she would watch him goof around and earn a bit of shouting from his mother, Natalia, about his misbehaviour whenever Annie's on the porch. He would always smile shyly at her and then scratch his head.

It was Dylan, though, who usually had the nerve to approach Annie and ask her of what she was reading. His then eight years old self would sit down on the porch and she would read him some poetry.

"I think Fin would love to read those." The little boy once said. "He just said he'd rather fish but I know he's lying."

"How so?"

"He kept on asking what we're reading and I wouldn't tell him. His ears turned red in jealousy, I think."

Annie had forgotten where she put the book. With all that's happening around her family at that time—the death of her mother, her shock, her father's short depression—Annie barely remembered living an unproblematic life. It didn't help that two years after, she would be eligible for the Games.

Disrupting her own thoughts, Annie finally turned off the tap and arranged the dishes to dry on the counter. She then went out to pick some herbs and vegetables in the little patch she grew with her dad over the years. As she did though, she can't also help but notice the blocked windows of the Odair household.

The house was unkempt and there were weeds growing on the once trimmed yard and vines climbing the now faint walls. The glass windows were also dusty and cobwebs were making themselves comfortable in the awnings of the porch.

It seemed just like yesterday, but really, as Annie shook her head and crouched down to pick some of the thyme and parsley, it was all too long ago. Everything had changed. And soon, in two months time, when Chivy Dweller picks out two new names, everything will change once more.

As it always did.

(I Understand Only a Little)

"SO what's got your pretty hair in twists, Finnie?" Danny asked him again as he tried to haul up a large basin of fish on his shoulder. Finnick grumbled as he walked towards the pier where a number of market vendors were buying from the fishermen.

"S'non of your business, actually." Finnick huffed, finally settling down the load and avoiding the gaping looks and giggles of the women on the pier. Danny came a few seconds later with his own haul and properly set it as well.

"Of course it's not! I'm just curious, is all. You get so defensive easily." Danny chuckled and pushed Finnick playfully.

"Shove off."

They walked, still ignoring the female giggles, back to the docks where a few more boats started to line up and needed to be tied to the bollards. Finnick pulled the thick ropes of the nearest boat to him and started to knot.

"You know," Danny said beside him, "You used to enjoy this, Finnick."

Finnick ignored him.

"Yes, yes, you did." Danny added thoughtfully. "Now I wonder why you look so _pained_ doing all the knots."

"Danny," Finnick wiped the sweat from his forehead before rolling his eyes, "I look so _pained_ because you're stepping on the rope and I can't tie it any longer." Finnick tugged the lengthy rope, causing Danny to trip and chuckle.

"You also got some temper now."

"Just shut up, Danny."

Danny walked forward and helped Finnick finish tying the knots. They moved silently towards another bollard and started tying once more.

"You can talk to me, you know." Danny said cautiously.

Finnick sighed. "I know."

"Then?"

"Then what?"

"Tell me what's bothering you."

Finnick wanted to deny the fact that he wanted some talk. He wanted to say he didn't need small talks. But who was he kidding? He needed it. Badly.

"Is it Annie, Fin? Is she the one bothering you?"

Finnick thought about it. Was it really Annie? He spent most of his time last night not really trying to sleep. He kept himself awake to contemplated on the things about his somewhat peculiar relationship with Annie.

Truth be told though, it wasn't just the thoughts of Annie keeping him awake at night. There were far worse thoughts than Annie hating on him that invaded him every night.

"No," Finnick finally replied. "Not really."

Danny made a curious, doubtful nod at him. All his friends thought it was Annie. Johnny, Linda, Danny, and Liz. All of them though it was Annie who bothers him the most.

But again, no, not really.

"She'll come around, don't worry. You know girls, Fin. They have all these emotions up and running all the time. You should see Lizzie when it's _that_ time of the month. Oh, boy," Danny chuckled as he took the rope from Finnick as the latter suddenly became frozen in place. "It's ugly."

Finnick continued to stare at water below the docks. It was moving gently along the waves, some of the boats lined up were swaying lightly along with it.

But it wasn't the waves that distracted him.

"Oh, hell with it Finnick! You're playing mute now?" Danny said, obviously crossed at him. "Why did I even bother? You know what? The next time—"

"Shut it, Danny."

There, walking towards them, reflected by the waves of District Four, was a figure with long brown hair. She stopped—hesitant as shifted slightly—then continued. Not sooner after Finnick took a deep breath, she spoke. And Finnick could tell, with the sudden heat that spread all over his body, that she was close. She was damn close to him.

"Hello." She said.

"Oh!" Finnick heard Danny's surprised yet sniggering voice. "Annie, what are you doing here?"

Finnick saw in the reflection that she raised the linen bag in her hand.

"Lunch for dad."

Danny cleared his throat, "Of course. Well, I did see him earlier. Though I have to say he's still there. See? That's his mast." Danny pointed towards the sea where a few more boats were sailing. "That's his, isn't it? The tallest one?"

Annie nodded. "I guess I'm too early then. I'll just come ba—"

"Don't wear yourself out, Annie. You can sit inside the shack and wait. Your dad'll come along in a few minutes." Danny assured her.

"I really don't want to be in anyone's way, and you two seems to be busy."

"What? No, we're not. Fin was just finishing this off, are you not, Fin?"

Finnick felt a hard nudge on his side. Unwillingly, he looked up at Annie. She was looking at him curiously and after a moment, directed her eyes somewhere else. If Danny, Finnick thought, didn't feel the awkwardness that suddenly swelled throughout the entire dock, then he was made of stone.

Finnick tried to compose himself. "Yeah, we're almost done here. The shack will be a nice spot for you to wait."

"Well if you two really don't mind..." Annie tucked a few strands of hair behind her ears.

"No, go on. We'll follow you there in a few." Danny smiled.

Finnick watched Annie took a final glance at her father's mast before walking towards the shack, her linen bag slightly swaying beside her.

Danny returned to the bollards, dragging Finnick along.

"You now also have the attention span of a two year old." Danny kidded.

Finnick took the rope Danny handed him and absentmindedly started tying. He heard the latter click his tongue.

"You must remember that this is a very small district. She'll be everywhere, Finnie, and this won't be the last of it. You better brace yourself."

* * *

><p>FINNICK didn't want it to happen.<p>

Of course he didn't.

But would she take that as the truth?

_Of course_, she wouldn't.

And that's what made him so mad, so angry. Why did she think he wanted it to happen?

Did Annie honestly think that he wanted her splashing down on the ocean? How in that ridiculously long hair of hers did she actually think he wanted her to be drenched? Annie Cresta would be the death of him, Finnick realized. Surely.

It was all going well. After tying the last of the boats, Finnick and Danny went back to the shack to accompany Annie while waiting for Willard Cresta. They had a pretty good conversation (at least Danny and Annie was) with Danny making fun of everyone on the pier while slightly blushing when Annie asked if it was true he's finally marrying Liz.

"Well," He said as he scratched his semi-bald cut hair. "I suppose we're getting there."

Annie offered her congratulations and hugged Danny. They then started talking about dates and traditions and song numbers that Finnick actually lost track of it. It was a relief when he finally saw the mast of Willard Cresta slowly making its way towards the shore. Not too long after he mentioned it, Annie decided to meet her father on the docks and went out of the shack. Finnick and Danny followed suit. After that that, though, Finnick just wished he didn't.

He clearly remembered that Danny was just telling him to close the shack's door when almost instantly, Finnick found himself suddenly lying on the dock's washed-out floorboard, his chin hurting like hell, and hearing a tiny yet screeching gasp before the sound of splashing water.

"Annie!" Danny exclaimed. He heard her cough; possibly from the salt water she might've swallowed. "Are you alright?"

"Yes, I'm –I'm alright."

Finnick watched, still at awe, as Danny bent down and helped Annie climb up. What just happened? He seemed so lost Finnick even thought his exfoliating at the Capitol was taking a toll on his system. But when he tried to finally stand up, understanding dawned upon him.

He pushed her into the water.

Accidentally.

His foot got tangled up with some ropes that he lost his balance and accidentally bumped into Annie and stupidly fell on the floor. Fortunately for Annie, her landing was softer.

"Well," Danny started. With the tone of his voice, Finnick knew he was trying very hard not to laugh. "That was unfortunate."

"Uh-huh." Annie said, sitting on the edge of the dock and squeezing out the water from her hair. "Tell me about it."

Finnick tried to disentangle the ropes. "I'm sorry, really. My foot got caught, I didn't mean to."

Annie looked at him, her face quite flushed. "Yeah, well..."

"I'll go get some towels." Danny scurried back to the shack.

Finnick was finally able to set his foot loose on the knots. Slowly, he inched closer to Annie and unconsciously ran his hand through his hair, sheepish.

"Seriously, Ann, I didn't mean to."

Annie blinked. She turned to look at him with an odd expression on her face.

"Don't." She said.

"Don't what?" Finnick said in a retort. "Apologize? C'mon Annie, we're too old for tha—"

"That's not what I meant."

Finnick sighed and shook his head. "Then don't what?"

"Don't call me... Ann."

Finnick didn't know why but his temper flared up. Instantly. What was wrong with calling her Ann? He loved that nickname. That was the nickname he usually called her.

"Why not?" Finnick replied, not intending to lower down his voice.

"Just don't, Finnick." Annie stood up and walked back towards the shack. But Finnick caught her arm and looked at her intently.

He wanted to know what went wrong between them. They were friends. Why did that had to change? Year after year it got worse. Every time he tried to come closer, she would push him away like he was some sort of a freak she had to get rid of. Finnick admitted he was a freak. The ocean—the molluscs—knew how much he was of a freak he even felt so ashamed for himself.

But Annie?

Annie whose innocence had always astounded him? Whose pure heart that relentlessly overlooked the bad things in all of the people in District Four?

Finnick didn't even think it was possible. She could not hate him.

"Why?" Finnick started once more, gripping her arm tighter. "Is it now David's nickname for you?"

Annie glared at him, her green eyes piercing.

"What are you talking about? David has nothing to do with this. _You_ pushed me into the ocean!"

"Accidentally!"

"Oh I bet it was! Finnick Odair _accidentally_ pushed Annie Cresta down into the ocean so that he could scold her again. Why, wanting to pick another fight, Fin? Or is it now _The Great Finnick Odair_, like what they call you in the Capitol?"

"Everything really has to end and begin with that, shouldn't it Cresta? It's not my problem I got popular! It's not my problem that I won and they didn't! And I won't, not even in another lifetime, regret coming back to the Capitol!"

"Of course you wouldn't. You and your arrogant self belong there! I don't even understand why you come back."

"I still have some people here who think highly of me." Finnick sneered. "Unlike you."

"Well pity that the only people who think highly of you are the ogling girls wanting nothing but to have a go with you!"

"Well let them have a go!" Finnick released her arm. "Why won't you do the honors and tell them I'm available?"

"Oh you would want that, don't you? Having everyone tightly wrapped around your finger? But let me tell you this, Odair. Never, not in a millions years, will I be one of them. I will never be one of your girls!"

Annie huffed and started walking away from him again and back towards the pier.

"Of course you are ever so righteous!" He called after her.

Annie stopped and turned around. She was frowning, almost laughing, that Finnick felt somewhat ashamed.

"Righteous." Annie nodded, "Yes, I am righteous. And just because I'm here in Four doesn't mean I don't hear things Finnick." Annie suddenly looked at him with an expression he could not fathom. Sadness? Disbelief?

"Five women, Fin? Sometimes even ten?"

Finnick froze.

She knew.

With one last defiant stance, as if she realized her sudden shift in disposition, Annie once again became enraged at him.

"You're disgusting."

* * *

><p>WILLARD Cresta thought that breakfast that morning was eventful. What with Annie's peculiar responses, or lack thereof, to the topic of Finnick Odair, he thought that pretty much of the day would become quite boring.<p>

Well, he had to think again.

After getting his lunch inside the shack, Danny hurriedly explained to him of the small ruckus that happened just before he got to the docks. Finnick and well, unsurprisingly, Annie got into a small clash, literally and figuratively, that Danny didn't want to get into too many details.

"Well, she did fall off the docks. That pretty much explains everything." Danny shrugged at him while a still furious—and slightly mumbling—Finnick stood just outside the shack.

"It'll be over soon, Will." Danny added. "You know these teenagers."

Willard actually laughed. "Well you know these two! Always fighting like cats and dogs. But I tell you Danny, they always come around. Always."

But when he got back to the house, Annie, who was still in much of a frown as Finnick, was out in the backyard, aggressively ploughing the small vegetation.

"I think the oregano's still doing alright."

Annie tuned around. She breathed deeply and then continued _cultivating_ the soil.

"I thought lunch was good today. Sea weed soup." Willard slowly walked towards her, his hands on his pocket.

"Well don't destroy the tomatoes dear, they grow rather slowly than the herbs."

As he said it, Annie ploughed even harder that soil was almost raining on him.

"Annie," Willard took hold of her arm slowly and tried to take away the garden hoe. "Stop it."

After finally being able to get a hold of both her hands, Willard lifted her daughter's chin. It didn't surprise him that she was tearing up, if not already sobbing.

"Annie?"

She looked at him with such sadness.

"I was so mean, daddy."

"No you were not. Well, I think at least you weren't." He shrugged.

"He didn't deserve it. I said so many horrible things."

"Well, we all do and say horrible things every day, my pearl." He tried to reassure her. "Just yesterday I told Henry Roy that he's gaining some weight, not realizing that he was actually sick in the stomach and had some hot compress underneath his shirt."

"That's different."

"Or what about when Amabee Grover went to borrow my boat for a date he had and I actually told him my boat doesn't come in with luck?"

"Daddy! You said that?"

"Well, not explicitly. I told him love means hard work. And hard work means actually doing something and not relying on the stars or the skies, or the fishes in the ocean."

Willard put his arms around Annie, and like a little girl, Annie enveloped him as much.

"You are not a bad person, my pearl. And because you're not a bad person, you know exactly what to do next."

Willard looked at his daughter sternly as she looked at him frowning.

"Annie?"

She sighed.

"Alright, alright. I'll apologize."

"Very good. Your mother and I raised you well."

Annie sniggered slightly. "You get to cook dinner though."

Willard laughed, "That I will."

"And I'm sorry about the garden."

"Well, at least you got them all covered. I really dislike ploughing."

(I Can Hardly See)

It was dusk when Annie had the courage to place down the book she was reading and finally head down towards the Victor's Village. Her father had been telling her time and again that she should have gone right after they finished cleaning up the backyard she destroyed. Annie, on the other hand, had a litany of excuses for her father.

"_Finnick's still at the pier, daddy."_

"_He might be with Danny and I don't want Danny to be there when I apologize." _

"_Don't you think he's too tired from working? I can go tomorrow. Or maybe the day after. Or even the next?"_

"_Maybe I should just send him a letter."_

"_Johnny could go for me. He would understand."_

But Willard gave her a stern glance that Annie decided it was time. She needed to get it over with somehow. Besides, she didn't want it hanging around inside her head for the rest of the night.

Annie was already crossing the town square and enjoying the patterns the cobble stones made when a familiar voice surprised her from behind.

"Going somewhere?"

Annie turned around. When she saw the figure leaning in the nearby mahoe tree, she relaxed.

"David."

He walked towards her, hands on his pockets. He looked dashing, Annie admitted. Even with dark pants and gray t-shirt, David was still really, really handsome. It also did help that the sun was setting just as beautifully behind him.

"You are going the wrong way you know? The sun's behind us, what are you doing wasting such a sunset?"

Annie laughed. "Well, I have to be somewhere, really. I do wish the sun would look like that tomorrow as well."

"You might get lucky, who knows?"

"Well, what about you? What are you doing there by the tree?"

"Not wasting the sunset. It's too beautiful to ignore." David grinned. "That and of course I had to help my father from his haul today. That explains the smell."

"I really didn't want to ask at first, but thank you for telling." Annie jokingly scrunched up her nose as Danny rolled his eyes at her.

"Seriously, though, where are you headed?"

Annie took a deep breath and offered a light smile. "To the Victor's Village, actually."

David raised an eyebrow. It was Annie's turn to roll her eyes.

"Long story, David."

"I have time." He shrugged. When Annie didn't respond, David hesitated to ask but did so after a few seconds. "I could walk you there if you like."

Annie smiled at the offer. "I'll be fine. Don't worry."

"I know you'll be fine, but from the looks of things—you know, the way you actually paled when I asked where you're going—it seems that you don't want to go there in the first place."

Annie's eyes narrowed as she observed him. "Sneaky."

"I try my best." David chuckled. "So what do you say? I could be of moral support?"

"Well, that's seems interesting for you to say knowing that you actually don't know _why_ I'm going there."

"You know there is a reason why it's a long walk towards the Victor's Village. We all know how some victors could be so full of themselves that they want to be separated from us, commoners. But people like you, with a kind heart and soul, prefer to take matters into their own hands—even if it is indeed a long crossing."

"Well if the victor you're pertaining to is Finnick Odair then I might say you're not wrong at all. I cannot picture sweet old Mags being, as you put it, full of herself."

"That and the fact that the other Victors aside from the two of them are already in the Capitol being famous."

Annie nodded.

"So it's settled then. I'm the moral support?"

Annie twitched her lips. She eyed David one more time, debating whether she wanted him to be 'involved' with the matter.

Well of course he wouldn't be, she thought to herself. It was just a walk anyway. And David had always been so nice to her, making her the crab soup the other day.

"Well," Annie responded. "If you insist then."

David grinned brightly that even Annie felt lighter. Meeting Finnick Odair with a moral support wasn't as bad as she thought.

* * *

><p>IT WAS truly a long way to the Victor's Village, it being on the other side of the District. But long walks in Four was something very familiar and customary. It was clean in the Disrict, for one, and the sceneries were very beautiful. It may not look like the Capitol, but District Four was considered one of the richest in all of Panem. They did provide all the sea foods for the entire nation and their trade was still in the standards of living.<p>

It didn't go unnoticed though that the majority of the riches of the District didn't go to its deserving people. Just a few months ago, the Capitol ordered the redevelopment of the Mayor's house and ordered new guns for the guards. Not a single donation was given to the West Villages where the shore dikes were destroyed from last year's horrible typhoon. The fishermen also suffered a lot from the increasing tariffs that the office of the Mayor's been imposing every month. And in the school, instead of repairing some of the old classrooms the eighth grade students had been using (and hiring a somewhat more decent and more capable teachers), the local government was keen on developing the training centers in preparation for the Games.

"Well, you can't blame them, Annie. They want the children—us—to be prepared for the games."

He and Annie had been discussing the status of the District while walking towards the Victor's Village. David, was careful and a bit uptight with the subject, but she, David noticed pressed on. Talking about the quality of life in Distirct Four had always been an importance to her.

"I know, I know. But it makes us forget the more important things."

"Much more important than staying alive through the games?"

Annie paused for a moment. David did too.

How he wished to know what was going on inside that pretty head of hers.

"Yes," Annie finally said, looking up at him thoughtfully. "There are some things that are really precious that you'd be willing to die in exchange of having it."

David narrowed his eyes and curiously nodded. He followed after Annie who, by the looks of it, was suddenly in a good mood she might as well be skipping.

"Well, I'm sure you know what these precious things are?" David called afterwards.

Annie turned around and grinned, her hands behind her. She looked just like a child.

"Oh, I don't know." Annie teased. "You must find that out yourself."

And just like from photographs and books, David thought, with the right timing and all, the sea wind softly breezed through her hair, lightly and delicately swaying her long brown hair; her cheeks blush, her light dress just fit enough to snug the right proportions of her body. Her eyes, her sea green eyes.

Suddenly, David couldn't help but feel, well, warm and delighted.

"I don't know how long it will take. But you'll find out soon enough." She continued. "We're near. Shall we?"

David, who finally snapped back from his short trance, slowly made their way, finally, inside the Victor's Village with Annie.

Arranged in semi-circle, the houses that were built were huge and intricately beautiful. The small bushes that surrounded the small rotunda was in full bloom with different kinds of flowers.

"Well," Annie turned to him once more. "Thanks for walking me here."

David smiled politely. "It's my pleasure."

"Oh," Annie continued. "Thanks for the crab soup the other day. And I'm sorry I was a bit, _annoying_. Well, you know me."

"Well, actually, I don't." David replied. "Not that much anyway. Of course, I want to, I just... Well, you know..."

Annie laughed. "I understand. Well, the walk seemed a nice way for us to get to know each other."

"Yeah, it was. Truly."

"Well you better—"

"You know I really like to wait for you here." David cut her off. "I mean, it's kind of dark now, and well we both live in the West Village, so I just thought..."

Annie laughed again. She eyed him curiously. Was she appraising him? Bless the sea urchins David hope he looked alright. Well, more than alright he wished.

"I'd love to." She finally spoke.

David blinked. "Really?"

"Why not?" She shrugged. "You're not really insufferable, unlike some other people." Annie rolled her eyes and eyed one of the two lit houses in the Village.

"Right. Finnick. Well you better hurry up. Royalties don't want to wait for commoners."

"Yes, indeed."

Annie waved her hands to bid goodbye and started walking away. He watched as she neared Finnick Odair's house. When he finally let her in, David sat in one of the iron benches at the gates. He looked up the darkening sky, whistling.

_You'll find out soon enough_, she said.

But David, who glanced back once again towards the Victor's house, realized that he might've just found what he was looking for.

Because maybe, or maybe not _maybe_ but _definitely_, Annie was the precious thing he would want to die for.

* * *

><p>FINNICK just wanted to die. If someone told him they had a pretty much uneventful day he might just punch them in the nose. One person could only take so much on a rough day. He hoped, he prayed, and he begged for peace when he finally came back home in the village.<p>

But of course, it was universally impossible for Finnick to gain peace.

Sitting on one of his kitchen stools (hair now a spiky violet, skin awfully too tan for his taste, rose tattoos covering her legs and gold necklace—Finnick swore the pendant was a vial with what seemed like blood—distinctly dangling around her neck) was another _nuisance_ in his life.

"Finnick!" Chivy Dweller, the District Four escort, bellowed after sipping from the tumbler she was holding on her left hand and a few folders on her right. "I thought you'd never return! Oh, Capitol-dung, what is that smell?"

Chivy dramatically scrunched her nose and eyed Finnick carefully.

"Is that you? Why do so stink so much? You've been here for barely a week and you already reek like a dead fish."

"It's good to see you too, Chiv."

"Well," Chivy's eyebrow rose. "Don't expect me to believe that." She handed her the folders and Finnick groaned in disbelief.

"But I just got back!" He complained, not even bothering to scan through the folders.

"I know." Well, for Finnick's consolation, Chiv did look forlorn about it. "But read it and you might still be quite happy about it."

Finnick crossed the room and entered his living room. There, he slouched down on the couch and tossed the folder away towards the coffee table. Chivy clicked her tongue behind him.

"I told you to read it first."

"Whatever is inside that will not make me feel any better!" Finnick snapped at her.

"Well I'm so sorry you feel that way. But orders are orders, you know that."

She retrieved the folder from the coffee table as she sat too on the couch and flipped it open.

"Here you go. Read it."

Finnick, who narrowed his eyes on her, grudgingly snatched it.

_Dear Mr. Finnick Adrion Odair, _

_Greetings! _

_First of all, on behalf of the President, Coriolanus Snow, we all wish you a happy homecoming to District Four. We heard from the forecasters that it would be indeed a very sunny and warm summer in your District that we truly wish we could enjoy the sun with the rest of your District's people. But it is unfortunate that we are becoming quite busy in preparation with the upcoming Hunger Games that we might miss the Annual Bonfire once again. _

_However, as you are very fondly remembered here in the Capitol, it has reached our offices that some of our dearest citizens have requested for your presence once again. There are two of them who had scheduled and reserved the 147__th__ day in the Panem year. Converted to District Four's season, it will be on the 31__st__ day of your summer. _

_Enclosed are the details you might need as the President has requested that you familiarize your self with them. It might come in useful during the said meetings. Rest assured, you will be back in District Four just in time for the Bonfire celebrations. _

_Again, we wish you a very prosperous vacation and we are delighted to be seeing you soon!_

_Sincerely, _

_Klaus DeMonch_

_Assistant to the President_

"Well," Chivy raised her eyebrows. "It's not so bad, is it?"

Finnick snorted. "At least they had the decency to let me have this two months break."

Chivy eyed him warily, and tutted. "Ahh, what a homecoming could do to oneself."

"Look," Finnick sighed and straightened up on his seat. "It's just that... I really had a bad day and I didn't need more," Finnick pointed at the folder, "of _that_. I mean, Chivy, I just got back!"

Chivy crossed her legs and sighed. "I know, Fin. But you know what is at stake here."

Feeling absolutely exhausted, Finnick placed his head on his hands. Just one more annoyance for this day and he might just break down in tears.

He looked at Chivy, almost accusingly. "You know, you shouldn't even be here consoling me."

She actually laughed.

"Well, I do my job right and they don't bother me. Besides," She purred, "You're my favourite victor."

Finnick groaned. "Not those jokes, Chiv. Not funny, not really funny."

If Mags was like his grandmother, Chivy was his mother. Foreign even on the customs of the poorest and most sympathetic citizens, an escort had never been known to be too friendly to the tributes. But Chivy, a deviant at heart, with her short hair and leather attire, thought different.

"If I'm the last person who would deliver you before your death, I make sure you'll have the greatest time."

That was what she said on the night before Finnick's game. And although born and raised in the Capitol, Chivy was one of the few people he knew who possessed genuine feelings like a _real_ human being. Until now, Finnick couldn't fathom how she ended up being an escort instead of an Avox.

"How do you do it, Chiv? How can you stomach this?" Finnick asked as he slouched back and stared towards the ceiling.

She shrugged and drank once again from her tumbler. "You'd get used to it, kid. And at the end of it all, no matter how much it stings, you'd still end up being numb."

Finnick thought for a moment, contemplating on how much that did make sense.

He remembered the night on the train when he travelled back to the Capitol for his first ever trade. He remembered the look of pity on Chivy's face.

"I assure you," She said then. "You are not the first to do this. There's a long line ahead of you."

Finnick, then only sixteen years old, the fresh wound of his family's death still etched on every part of his skin, was crying. It was the first time he cried in front of a stranger.

"Why are they doing this?" he asked.

"To please themselves." She shrugged. After a moment, she sat down beside him and gently patted his shoulder.

But right now, Finnick was already far from just getting used to it. It passed through him. It lived inside him.

And it disgusted him.

He was disgusted at how he can now easily accept all their offers. Five straight months in the Capitol made him feel robotic, shallow, and worst of all, empty.

He looked at Chivy who was now slouching like him on the other side of the sofa.

"I want to help you Finnick," she said as if reading his mind. "But you know how things get complicated."

Finnick sighed heavily and rested his head again on the couch. He looked up at his ceiling where a chandelier was hanging, shining and glittering as it reflected the natural light of the afternoon. How he just wished he could turn into one of those crystals and bask in the rays of the sun.

"You know there are worst days, Fin." Chivy whispered and stood up from the couch. "And besides, you'll be back before the Bonfire. You wouldn't miss anything. You could still ask her out."

Finnick looked at her and narrowed his eyes. "Ask who out?"

Chivy smirked loudly she walked towards the main door.

"You know who I am talking about."

Finnick snorted out, trying not to feel the chills that ran down his spine. "Yeah, as if I could do that."

Chivy stopped as she held the door knob. She looked at him, smiling slightly, and let out a sigh.

"It's not over, Finnick."

Finnick frowned, another realization dawning upon him.

"It is, Chiv. And you know it."

She smiled at him sadly, the only thing Finnick knew she could offer.

And then with one final glance, as if the whole scenario was too much too handle, she left. Just like that. She could not even stay. Duty called—the Capitol called.

Finnick looked back up at the chandelier as he heard the door click. He wished that she didn't leave. How he wished everyone just didn't have to leave. It unnerved him that the sound of his breathing was echoing inside the house.

He hated it.

He hated breathing.

He hated how it just made him realize of how alone he truly was.

Why should they leave? Or die, for that matter?

"Who is it?" Finnick recalled this other question from Chivy at the train. "Who was supposed to be next if you didn't do this?"

It was the simplest and most obvious answer he had ever said in his entire life. There was no one else in his life except her.

And he didn't want her to die.

"Annie." He murmured then, sounding more defeated than ever. "Annie Cresta."

Chivy pursed her lips and tutted. "Ahh, young love. The worst pain of all."

* * *

><p>ANNIE rang the doorbell two times now. Why wasn't he answering? She promised herself that she would do it as fast as possible. A small hello, a convincing smile, and a sincere apology would make it all quick. The less time she would spend here, the earlier she could go home.<p>

And David. David was still waiting.

Annie tried to ring the door once more. As she did though, it finally opened, revealing a somewhat dishevelled looking Finnick Odair. His bronze hair was standing everywhere and his eyes were still puffy.

Was he sleeping? Bless the sea horses.

Annie wanted to groan. She couldn't think of a worse timing.

"I'm really sorry, Finnick, I didn't mean to wake you up and I should've just dropped by earlier like what my dad said but I didn't realize you would be sleeping at this time and I really just want to come by and you know, well you know we have to talk, and it really makes me feel—"

"Stop, Annie." He said, frowning a bit. "Breathe, would you?"

Annie closed her mouth and nodded.

"Breathe?" Finnick asked once more, a smirk forming in his mouth.

Annie slightly narrowed her eyes and glared.

"What?" Finnick asked jokingly. "You didn't breathe. You were most likely just restraining to roll your eyes at me."

"I believe you could assume something much worse than that."

"True." Finnick nodded. "But let's save it for a bigger fight, shall we? Come on in."

He fully opened the door and stepped aside. Reluctantly, Annie went in and sheepishly stood inside the large house and looked around.

It wasn't her first time inside a victor's house. She was a frequent visitor at Mags (although she hadn't visited for days now). And Carmine Veller, another victor, was a friend of her mothers. She did transfer to the Capitol and Annie never knew of her whereabouts since then.

Then there was also Finnick, of course. His parents were very keen on inviting Willard and herself for dinner. But after their death and Finnick's frequent absence from the District, it became somewhat an unforgotten tradition. Still though, being inside the house took her breath away.

"... hasn't changed one bit." She murmured.

"Huh? What hasn't changed?"

Annie blinked. "The house. I mean, it's still beautiful."

Finnick also scanned his house.

"I've seen better." He shrugged.

Annie bit her lip to restrain herself from rebutting.

Better? He had seen better?

Well of course, Annie thought again, the houses in the Capitol were far more superior compared to the houses of the Victor's Village. How could she forget?

"So," Finnick crossed his arms and looked at her. "What's up?"

Annie shifted slightly before looking at Finnick. Why did she feel so suddenly cramped inside the ironically large house? Finnick raised his eyebrow after a few moments of her silence.

"Annie?" he added.

"Well," Annie fidgeted and started to play with her fingers.

Finnick sighed beside her. "Just don't."

Annie's eyes widened in alarm. "No! Really, Finnick. I wanted to apolo—"

"I said don't. It's not necessary."

"But Finnick—"

"It's not a big deal."

"It is! I was so mean and rude."

"No you weren't. Well, maybe a little. But that's not my point."

"You see, I was mean! I should've kept my mouth shut. First of all, it's none of my business what you do in the Capitol. I mean it's your life, right? You can do whatever you want. Second, I'm barely in the position to judge you seeing that I'm not even sure of what you're doing in the Capitol in the first place because you know, I just hear things, and confirmation doesn't go easily my way. Third.."

"Annie..."

"... rude. I was just rude, rude, rude. My parents taught me better than to be rude. I mean what I did was unfathomable—and just because I fell off the docks! I mean, I just fell! In the water! My favourite element in the world! It's just, I was too overwhelmed I guess that I..."

"Annie..."

"... but believe me when I say I didn't mean to. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. And you can insult me back if you like."

Annie ended with a dignified huff.

Finnick was looking at her disbelievingly before a twitch on his mouth betrayed his composure.

He laughed. He laughed so exuberantly Annie felt the color rising on her cheeks. What was wrong with him?

"Ann, I mean, Annie—I—bless the sea weeds—you...should've seen... the look... still very pretty... but, sea horses... you are panicky!"

Annie's temper was suddenly rising.

"Well, I've been told just recently." She snapped.

Finnick snorted, wiping the tears from his eyes. "Oh, hell, Annie. I thought you came here to patch things up."

"I did! But of course you have to ruin it."

"Ruin it? How did I ruin it?"

"Didn't you just laugh a few seconds ago?" Annie now crossed her arms. "Well?"

Finnick shook his head. "Well, damn, it was funny!"

"How could apologizing be funny?"

"Well for one you are apologizing to _me_."

"And?"

"Are you hearing yourself? _Me_, Annie. The Finnick Odair that you abhor so much! You are apologizing to me!"

Annie pursed her lips. She didn't abhor him. Dislike, maybe.

"Well?" Finnick now said in return.

"I don't abhor you."

He raised an eyebrow.

"I just... no, you just..."

"I've got time."

"Fine!" Annie stomped her foot. "You really irritate me most of the times, with the way you strut around like you own the world or something! Like you are that person everyone should revere. You just, well, you turned into a snob. You're not some sort of a V.I.P"

"Well, I am actually."

Annie rolled her eyes and started towards the door. "I'm leaving."

"Seriously?"

She didn't respond but Finnick took the swaying of the door open as an answer. He followed after her.

"Well so much for mending things." He kidded. Annie turned around and glared.

"This is not what's supposed to happen."

"Well, like I said. You can't always get what you want."

"Thanks for making that very clear, Odair."

"My pleasure."

"I won't bother doing it in the future."

"Shame. You've always been a lovely person."

"Shut up."

Annie crossed the porch without saying goodbye.

"Hey, Annie!" Finnick called after her but she didn't look back. "Say hello to David for me."


	4. And I Wrote the First Faint Lines

_CHAPTER 4:_

_And I Wrote The First Faint Lines_

There was something wrong. Still.

Finnick couldn't really pinpoint the problem but there was this nagging feeling at the back of his head that even listening in his favourite class—Literature—seemed to be a burden. He tried to deduce that maybe it was because of the Capitol letter he received over the weekend and that nagging feeling was the fact that he didn't want to go back yet. Not after that five long months.

He also considered another realization as several girls looked his way. It was already a Wednesday, exactly a week after he had arrived at the school and yet he still can't quite fathom the wonder of the students—mostly women, he had to admit—as if he had arrived just now and sprouted some extra legs. He had enough District Guards' eyes on him (working probably on Snow's orders) to actually deal with the district women's smitten and tawdry gaze.

He weighed which one bothered him the most but it still didn't hit that right spot on his back—brain, chest, stomach?—that was throbbing with annoyance.

Maybe it was really Johnny who was sleeping unabashedly just in the seat right in front of him. He was drooling slightly and Finnick winced as his best friend and his wide open mouth was ruining a perfectly good poetry book laid open underneath, serving, if Finnick could take the thought, as a pillow.

Maybe it was really his literature teacher—Mr. Appalach—who, time and again, had been saying that he can't understand why there was a literature subject in the first place. Literature was just plain fantasy and that fantasy can't win them any Games. Finnick restrained to clobber his instructor exactly seven times. Linda Simmons tried to retaliate and said that 'literature is fun' but was soon reprimanded and was asked to be in detention later in the afternoon.

Finnick retraced his thoughts.

Linda.

Maybe it was Linda after all—that blonde, gray-eyed, so-called friend.

Linda went up to him earlier on and asked what had really happened at _Brueler's Docks_ the other day.

"Something about Annie falling off the docks or something?" she asked.

Linda, even with her kindness and wit, was an ultimate blabber mouth. Finnick didn't want the entire district to know about his certain mishap at the docks and how, for the whale's sake, it didn't help him sleep or even eat that night—not when, of course, the lingering smell of lavender and sea water suffocated him in his own home. How the hell could someone emit such fragrance and lock it all up inside his house to torture him? _She _was there inside his house—about to apologize—for what, ten minutes? Five? Yet her smell stayed and clung to him as if he needed to be coated by it.

Ahh. There it was.

The annoyance intensified. The throbbing was now painfully at his temples and he resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

Of course it was _her_. As it had always been.

Annie Cresta.

To make it worse this time though, as Finnick finally reached for his temples to massage it, she was not alone in aggravating him. Seated just directly on the other side of Annie, was David Gray.

And David _dapper_ Gray seemed to be in the exact opposite disposition that he was in. Well, how could he not be overjoyed? He was the one who arrived at the school that morning, guiding (if not pathetically supporting) Annie as she climbed up the stairwell. He proudly led her to the questioning and shocked students, who for the first time, had taken their eyes off of _him_—Finnick—as he stood near the Lit room door and unfortunately witnessed the entire scenario.

Finnick, in consolation, did consider that Annie wasn't too enthusiastic with the idea of Gray being with her all the time. Yes, she seemed sweet and nice about the entire she-bang David was doing for her, but seriously, she was a _Cresta_. She didn't need any assistance whatsoever. Hell, if only David saw that murderous look Annie gave him that night when she came over to his house, Finnick would bet a thousand boats that Gray could finally take a hint and evaporate.

That was the thing, though. Annie hated his guts at the moment; maybe even forever. And unlike the sweet-smelling, lavender-filled fragrance she _left_ in his house to simply torture him, this anger of hers seemed to kill him altogether. It only left Finnick with nothing but a large and disappointing fact:

Annie could not be his.

"Read the poem aloud, Ms. Simmons," their teacher bellowed at Linda who immediately flushed. "Since you said that you are particularly having a _fun_ time in Literature."

Finnick saw her reach for her book and clear her throat with all the dignity she could muster.

_Don't go far off, not even for a day because—because I don't know how to say it; a day is long and I will be waiting for you, as in an empty station when the trains are parked off somewhere else, asleep._

_Don't leave me, even for an hour, because __then the little drops of anguish will all run together,__the smoke that roams looking for a home will drift__into me, choking my lost heart._

_Oh may your silhouette never dissolve on the beach; may your eyelids never flutter into the empty distance. Don't leave me for a second, my dearest._

_Because in that moment you'll have gone so far__I'll wander mazily over all the earth, asking,__will you come back?_

"It is so easy to distinguish what the poet was trying to convey, doesn't it?" Mr. Appalach continued, raising one of his bushy eyebrows. "Four particular letters so often used even a two year-old could spell it. So, for human beings like yourselves with a much higher level of intellectually capacity, I assume you all know it. Ms. Simmons? "

"Love, sir."

"Good. Now, Mr. Odair," the teacher now pointed at him, apparently not taking interest at all to any of the other students who were raising their hands—including Annie. "What do you think of this romantic element in the poetry?"

What did he think? What did he not think—abhor—about romance?

Finnick straightened in his seat and grunted, "Overrated."

* * *

><p><em>"They're not together, are they?"<em>

_ "When did that happen?"_

_ "But I really, really, doubt that."_

_ "I mean, Annie Cresta in a relationship? Pshh!"_

Annie, followed by a sarcastic Linda, conveniently passed the corridor as if she was hearing nothing. That was the trick. Pretend you didn't care and pretend they didn't exist. Well, of course they exist, yet the notion of possibly be away from the people who talk about her, as if she was the one who didn't exist but happen to pass by them at the school's corridor, clearly made Annie realize that the world was indeed in the breaking point of insanity.

David was just being a gentleman! What was wrong if he helped her climb the stairs?

She had to admit, though, that taking her hand was a bit unnecessary especially when he did not let go a few seconds too long after she _safely_ landed on the second floor of the school. Did she notice the opened mouths of the nosy sophomores? The almost touching eyebrows of the seniors? Or what about the angry glares of the few who had invited her out for the Bonfire?

She noticed but she didn't bother to react—as if walking alongside David Gray was the most normal thing in her everyday life. As she neared her locker then (with David still in tow), Linda, who was waiting by her own locker not far from hers, was wearing an expression not to be missed and be reacted upon. Annie wasn't sure if Linda was angry or sad or disappointed. But when David greeted her a good morning, Linda switched back to her normal self and even had a very nice conversation with him along the way towards their Literature class. Annie couldn't suppress the surprise, still, when David held her things for her as if a small poetry book and a fairly medium sized satchel was enough to obliterate her strength for the day. That went without saying that he asked, after she had taken her seat, if he could accompany her to the next class as well.

Annie didn't have the time to check if her best friend was gaping oddly again towards David but there was just nothing malicious whatsoever to what he had offered that she felt her head nod in agreement.

What was happening to her?

"All's fair in war and love, milady." Linda whispered beside her, keeping pace to her far more hurried walk.

Annie snorted but kept going and ignored the few more students looking at her. It was lunch time and Annie wanted nothing but a heavy meal to distract her from the gossiping students.

"Where did you get that, Linds?"

"We discussed that in class a few weeks back. Weren't you listening?"

Annie shrugged and pushed the cafeteria doors open. The blabbering and chit-chatting of the students halted for a second or so as she entered. She walked, with a head held high, as the student side-looked and followed her with their gaze. Seeing defeat that Annie wouldn't budge and get embarrassed, they went on again chatting as if nothing happened. But the twinkle in their eyes told Annie that she was now again the topic of their discussion.

"Is it really that hard to me imagine me be in a relationship?" Annie asked Linda as they lined up to the counter and, like instinct, ignored the green and mushy substance that was being rationed to their plates with a heavy glob.

Linda halted, eyes narrowing. "Are you in a relationship?"

Annie looked back towards her best friend with a scowl. "No."

"Then why are you so worried?"

Annie snorted as she lifted her tray. "Please, Linda. You of all people should know why I'm worried."

"No, not really."

"You see, there you go. No matter how much you deny it, I know that you know why I'm worried."

"Still a no, Annie." Linda sighed and gently placed her tray on the nearest empty table. Annie followed suit albeit placing her tray more deliberately that several people looked at them. Linda smiled apologetically.

"You are such a best friend, Linda."

Linda sneered and sat down. "And because you are such a dandy best friend yourself, Annie, you will help your oblivious best friend and explain to her what made a certain brown-haired, green-eyed, sexy vamp be in a foul mood when in fact the sexiest and most delicious twat in the entire school is crawling _pathetically_—if I can mention that—down at her foot and seem to be at a trance with the said vamp's gorgeousness."

Annie huffed. She gave Linda another scowl before rebutting.

"First of all, my mighty oracle, I am not a vamp. Whatever are you learning from our Lit class? That also happens to be my favourite class and I cannot remember anything about such analogies the way you're putting it. Vamp? Twat? Really, Linds? And second of all, you yourself have answered your own inquiry. I hate the attention, Linda Simmons. Look at them! Why are they making a huge fuss over this? It's just David."

Linda raised her eyebrows and exclaimed, "Exactly! You and David. David and You. Cresta and Gray. Gray and Cresta. It doesn't make any sense yet somehow it does! People can't accept the fact that two of the most gorgeous people in the school got together—"

"I told you we're not—"

"—behind their backs! I mean, of course we all knew this day was coming, it was just either David or Finnick, but I guess Finnick's gotten no luck—"

"W-wait, what's Finnick got to do with this?"

"—and David obviously got the upper hand now, but you see, people love the drama! Damn it, Annie, this is the best thing the school heard since the day _the great_ Finnick Odair won four years ago!"

Annie looked at Linda, shocked at the sudden explanation her best friend had elicited. It was just between Finnick and David?

"I am not a thing to be possessed, Linds." Annie said gravely and caused Linda to wince and take a deep breath. She reached for Annie's hand and grasped it.

"Look, it wasn't supposed to sound like that. I didn't mean it. But hey, two boys fighting over you? In this world that we live in, Annie, that's the best you could hope for. That at least, some people are still willing to sacrifice so much just to have you despite the uncertainty of the future."

"But Finnick?" Annie frowned in confusion as Linda only managed to laugh. It was only a matter of time, though, before her best friend's laughter was disrupted by another voice.

"May I take a seat?"

Linda almost guffawed again and gave Annie one of her knowing looks. It took an enormous amount of patience for Annie not to kick her best friend from underneath the table.

So, pretending everything seemed fine and dandy—that it was not awkward by any means—Annie smiled at their new companion and scooted over.

"Sure, why not."

* * *

><p>It was a Wednesday. Someone at least gave that to him. Wednesdays had never been his favourite day of the week. But couldn't someone give a damn to just make this particular Wednesday to be the same boring Wednesday he always had in his entire lifetime? What was with this Wednesday? The cafeteria was still serving the same, mushy, unappetizing glob for lunch, they had Mr. Grover's class, there were the piles of homework to be passed tomorrow, and of course, there was still the regular gossip mill led by the bunch of sophomores sitting in the far corner of the cafeteria.<p>

Why should it be this Wednesday?

Why should it be, of all the days of the week where Finnick ought to be indifferent, invisible, uncaring and apathetic, should David-dapper-Gray be seated right next to Annie Cresta?

Was it also this morning that Mr. Dapper helped her go to class? The brutally honest thoughts of Finnick did not betray him. Yes. It was still the same day.

Damn.

But then again, tomorrow could be worse. Wednesdays were not the most romantic of days.

"So, I was thinking." Johnny tried to intercept his thoughts. Finnick thought it would've worked if his best friend also refrained from glancing towards the table where David and Annie (with Linda, gloomily picking on her food) were seated. "I want to ditch classes tomorrow."

She was smiling.

Finnick stopped his fork midway. Annie was smiling. Why was she smiling? Finnick would bet his entire winnings that whatever joke David told her, he got it off from the spiteful people in the Wet Market. Annie shouldn't be listening to such.

"Are you listening, Fin?" Johnny asked. "I am going to ditch classes tomorrow!"

Finnick was able to nod and started with his food once more. Seriously, after having eaten the Capitol's magnificent food, this was what the school was going to give him? It insulted him. Well, no, it's just that there were a lot of food to be prepared. Heck, they were a food District why can't... Annie can't eat all these junk.. or even Johnny or Linda...

"Okay," Johnny exhaled beside him. "Why don't you just finally run along and stab David on the face? After killing him—"

"Johnny..." Finnick finally groaned.

"... tell Linda to mind her own business while you kiss the life out of Cresta, and then finally—finally!—"

"Pearson, just stop..."

"... come back here and listen to me saying that I AM GOING TO DITCH CLASSES TOMORROW!"

Finnick raised an eyebrow as a few people near them also stared at Johnny, quite bewildered.

"Well," Finnick sniggered. "So much for not letting anyone know."

Johnny rolled his eyes and tore the bread on his plate. "It now takes shouting to get your attention away from her. This is bad. Really, bad."

"Shove-off." Finnick sat up straight and gave an annoying glance to the on lookers. "I barely looked at her."

Johnny choked on his food. "Barely? _Barely?_ Have you seen yourself for the past five hours? The least you could do is to at least lessen the glaring."

"I was not glaring. I was just curious."

"Aha! You admit you were looking."

"Because I was curious!"

"You were not curious! You knew David and Annie could happen a long, long time ago and now that it finally did happen, you cannot accept it!"

"Oh shut up."

"You know what? You are right. You were not glaring at Annie. You were glaring at David, David and his _dapperness_ seating one millimetre too close to Annie."

"Can we not have this discussion here?" Finnick replied coldly.

Johnny opened his mouth to once again retaliate but chose to simply roll his eyes and nod. That didn't stop, Finnick now noticed, the slight twitch from his lips signalling his success on hitting some of Finnick's nerves. Too many, if Finnick were to be honest.

It was just so easy to debunk Johnny and his self-implication of righteousness. But Finnick also knew of the risks. Johnny was already talking too much and he knew that _they_ were listening. That _he_ was listening. If Johnny and Linda were to provoke him again to be with Annie, then no one would be safe. Annie wouldn't be safe. And all he wanted to do was to keep her safe along with everyone else.

"Look," Johnny started, "I didn't mean to yell, but really, if you don't want to finally pursue her then at least move on."

"I don't even know what you mean." Finnick mumbled.

"Finnick—"

But before Johnny could even finish whatever it was he was about to say, something that was oddly and scarily familiar happened. It had been almost ten, eleven days since Finnick felt that same chilling sensation on his back.

The touch wasn't welcoming. The touch—the hands that were slowly rubbing his back, making their way to his neck, to his chest... it terrified him.

Cathryn Highburn, a senior like himself and Johnny, had her arms wrapped around him in an instant. Finnick didn't know if she felt his sudden immobility after she touched him, but it seemed that it didn't matter. She was already seating next to him, arms and hands still in place at his torso.

"Finnick..." she murmured in his ears. In front of him, he could see Johnny almost laughing if not resisting to raise an eyebrow. Like the best friend he was, Johnny looked away and pretended to find the green mash of food on his plate to be interesting.

"Cathryn," Finnick replied.

"What was the ruckus about? Why did dear old Pearson have to shout at you?"

Johnny snorted, but Finnick kicked him under the table.

"It's..." Finnick thought quickly. He looked around and accidentally landed his eyes on the table he longed dreaded. Linda had her mouth in a huge 'o' while David frowned, still chewing slightly. But the look and the expression he wanted to see _and _avoid at the same time was _hers_.

Annie was looking straight at him with a curious and unreadable expression. Finnick tried stop glancing back and instead focus on Cathryn but his eyes seem to have had a life of their own. They just wouldn't stop glimpsing back.

"... It's just a bad day." Finnick finished, finally being able to tear his eyes away from Annie.

"Hmm." Cathryn murmured again. "Maybe I can take your mind off from it?"

It was such a familiar offer. An offer he had heard ten times a day during his stay at the Capitol. It should have bothered him. It should have taken a toll in his concentration and he should have frowned and said no. But the reality of it was, as he remembered, as he reminded himself, that this was him—every offer must be accepted, every invitation should be attended, every request should be fulfilled.

Or else.

"Tempting." Finnick murmured back. Now it was Johnny's turn to kick him.

Cathryn giggled. Her laughter was a bit too painful for his ears. It was too high-pitched, too frilly, too excited.

"What do you say, five o'clock at my place?"

Finnick laughed. "Well, aren't you quite the vixen?"

"I try."

Johnny snorted again and rolled his eyes. "Please, you're still at school premises."

"Oh don't be such a buzz kill, Pearson." Cathryn eyed him. "Don't worry, you'll find a girl some day."

"Now, now," Finnick said, untangling himself from Cathryn. "Let's not be too harsh, eh, Cathryn? He is my best friend after all."

"A fact that still astounds me." she retorted. After casting another look at Johnny, she puckered her lips affectionately and attended to Finnick once again. "So, five it is?"

Finnick chuckled. "We'll see."

"You are such a tease, Odair."

"Don't I know it?"

"Well, my door's always open for you, if you know what I mean?"

"Thrilling."

Cathryn smiled and gave Finnick a peck on the cheek. She left their table and a few students gazed after her. Finnick noticed the sophomores looking as if they were wetting their pants.

"Bitch." Johnny grumbled when Cathryn was finally out of ear shot.

"Tell me about it."

Johnny frowned at hime. "Oh, really? '_Tempting.' 'Aren't you quite the vixen?'_ Yeah, she's really a bitch."

"You could have sarcasm as a career, Johnny."

"I have been told." he snapped back and took another bite from his bread. "Some Wednesday, huh?" He added after a while.

"Yeah," Finnick sighed, glancing back—not really towards Cathryn Highburn and her too-tight jeans—but to that someone who seemed to be in such a good mood while in the company of David Gray. "Some damn Wednesday."

* * *

><p>Danny Cross was happy. Very, very, happy.<p>

Sitting on a rocking chair at his porch (overlooking the shores), he couldn't imagine, or maybe _could_ even care less, to the worries of other people. Finnick would be fine for one day. It was just a Wednesday anyway. What could happen on a _Wednesday_? But Wednesdays, on Danny's calendar, was the best. His work at the docks won't start until three in the afternoon and that gave him more time to rest and be with Lizzie for the rest of the morning.

Lizzie, who was busy in the kitchen preparing something for lunch, also had the day free—minus the short stay at the market later on. The livestock from Ten were getting expensive that she had to cut her days and hours at her stall so as not to order in more dairies that would eventually just get spoiled (due to the reality that only a few could afford them now).

Business at _Brueler's_ were still as healthy and as competitive Danny imagined it to be that financially, he and Lizzie were still very much comfortable—and very well prepared for a big, fancy wedding.

"Not thinking about it again, Danny?" The front door swung open and revealed Lizzie, holding up a tray filled with an array of carbohydrates, protein and fats.

"Not more than the usual." He stood up and took the food tray from her hands.

"I was wondering," she continued as she followed him to the porch, "... how could I ever keep that grin off from your face? The smile I could take, but the drooling? Come off it, Danny."

Danny chuckled and scratched his head. He took a glass of lemonade and handed it over to Lizzie who seated on the other rocking chair beside his.

"That annoys you, Lizzie? My drooling over you? Heaven forbid that's not that dirtiest I've looked whenever I think about you."

"Danny!" Elizabeth exclaimed.

Danny shrugged and took a mouthful of the baked fish cakes, controlling his laughter so as not to choke.

"Couldn't a man daydream about the woman he feels deeply for—considers to be the love of his life?"

"You are too girly for the both of us. I'm worried."

Danny chuckled. "I've got the right nerves. And I'm hurt that you simply ignore it."

Lizzie snorted and playfully slapped Danny on his shoulder. "What would I do without you?"

"Forever be alone and hence be like—who was that again? The one they told us about when we were in school? Dony Joney or something."

"Davy Jones, you unmindful you! I thought literature was your favourite subject."

"It was. Not until we started poetry that I lost my taste for it."

"Poetry's nice. And romantic."

"It is most of the times." Danny replied after taking another bite. "But only for those who are like, well, Finnick for one. Or that bloke, David Gray."

"Hmm. David Gray. Now that you mentioned my other options..."

Danny sputtered and frowned. "Seriously, woman, you wound me. I know Gray's kinda good-looking—"

"Kinda? He _is_ good looking."

Danny rolled his eyes. "Fine. He is good looking but damn, do you see how he lifts his father's haul? At the rate he's doing all the time, the fish'll rot in the containers before he finishes his rounds."

"Oh, you are such a sore lover, Danny." Liz giggled. "The _dazzling_ David couldn't compare to you."

"Well, he is too weak and too beautiful for my taste."

"Too clean for you if you ask me."

"Lizzie..."

"Oh hush, Danny, I was only kidding." Lizzie took his hand and tugged it lightly. "You are my... pirate."

"Goodness, Liz, that's very creative." Danny joked as he pulled her to him and had her sitting on his lap. He rested her head on his chest and chuckled. "If I'm your pirate then you are my girl-pirate—_piratess_, whatever."

Elizabeth punched him lightly and giggled. They both sat there for a good twenty minutes that Danny felt they might eventually take a nap in this position. He wouldn't complain. He loved Liz too much it felt as though she should've been sewed in his own skin. He concluded that it was a bit gory but Liz would definitely understand the figurative meaning of it.

Sweet and loving as it all sounded, not everyone understood their relationship. Danny and Liz were only twenty two years old when they both decided to live under the same roof. Her mother—Elise—was not too keen on the idea but her fragile state left her hoping that maybe after she was gone, Danny would be there to take care of Liz. She died a few months after.

But now that he and Liz were both twenty six years old, Danny knew it was time to take their relationship to the next level—and now he realized how much he actually longed for it.

"I wish Fin could be this happy." Liz spoke.

Danny looked up to her lovingly and tucked in a few of her red hair behind her ears.

"He could be. If he wasn't just too hard on himself."

"You see," she frowned. "That's what I don't understand. When he is in the Capitol he struts around like he owns Panem, but when he gets back here it's as if all of his confidence was hauled away from him. Immediately."

Danny looked back on the shore, just right about a few meters away from their porch.

"He has issues." He replied thoughtfully.

"Obviously."

"Oh, c'mon, Lizzie, the boy is trying."

Lizzie snuggled closer to Danny, wrapping her arms around his neck. "I know, I know. But really, what gives? Because Annie wouldn't give him the time of day? But there are other—"

"They're not Annie, Liz. I've asked that myself, but all he says is that _they're not Annie_."

"You know, I could never understand those two." Lizzie sighed. "I didn't even know how it began for Finnick. I mean I knew they were neighbours but seriously, I didn't see that coming."

Danny chuckled softly. "You must know, Finnick also didn't see that coming."

"Oh?"

"Believe me. Annie has always been gallivanting right under his nose but he didn't even notice until she punched him on the face."

"Well, that is saying something."

Danny laughed while Lizzie looked at him quizzically.

"Well, it is something." He finally said after another fit of laughter. "She did punch him on the face. I mean, literally."

"Literally?" she asked, wide-eyed.

"Literally."

* * *

><p>Annie rearranged the strap of her satchel as she made her way out of the school premises. It was a very long day at the Government School and it wasn't really the best day she had hoped for. The glances were still coming her way as David still didn't leave her side.<p>

"Don't mind them." David whispered beside her. "They're not just used to this."

Annie frowned slightly and looked at him. "This?"

David sighed and scratched his head. "Well, you do know what I'm trying to do here, don't you?"

Annie shook her head.

Undoubtedly, she knew what he was up to. But it was preferable if he said it so himself. When she didn't respond aside from the fleeting shake of her head, David smiled and offered to walk her straight to the West Beach.

"Maybe I could shed some light to your confusion." He chuckled.

"I sure hope you do."

Like earlier during lunch, Annie particularly had a good time talking to David, except for the few furtive glances of Linda that made the whole lunch period more awkward than it should had been. Annie felt that it was all weird, really. But not because David made it all weird for her, but it was the others' reception towards this _development_ that made her anxious.

She had to admit there were also a few instances that David did try too much. Annie supposed that he did this not really to impress her, but to never leave an awkward silence.

What she hoped, in all honesty, was for David to know that she loved the silence—the quietness a simple walk could offer. District Four was beautiful enough to hush the words right out of someone's mouth. It also had its own distinct background music; with the crashing of the waves to the shore, the twittering of the local and migrating birds, the rustling of the beach weeds, the soles of one's foot scrunching up the sand underneath...

Right after the night David waited for her at the Victor's Village, their afternoon walks now seemed to be a regular occurrence. Usually, they would find each other at the West Beach after school, both of whom wanting to enjoy the sunset and both of whom not wanting to ask the other whether the meet ups were accidental or otherwise. There were times Linda was usually with Annie but the former would surprisingly leave before David could even offer to walk Annie home.

So the _incident_ before their Literature class this morning at the Government School was definitely a message—a development to _the_ development.

"So you really have no idea, do you?" He asked when they were crossing the town square.

A few district students were also roaming the place, enjoying the sunset, eating what seemed like some fish cakes and sea weed bread from the market. Some of them exchanged knowing looks when she and David passed them by and said a friendly hello. Their secret walks were definitely not so secret anymore, a fact that to a certain degree, Annie feared the most (but then again it was as if David was being discreet in the school in the first place). Right now, though, as Annie and David walked past the other students, she was already too comfortable—and too entertained—with the peculiar setting and situation with David that she surprisingly, and finally, didn't even care.

There was something about not being inside the gray and white walls of the school that made her feel relaxed and easy. Being on the beachside was far more liberating than reading the pages of her poetry book or learning a new fishing knot. Maybe, feeling the sand underneath her feet and smelling the brine of the sea made her and David's _development _seemed real and attainable.

"Well, I may have the wrong idea." Annie said bluntly as they finally made their way down to the West Beach. "I mean, I could be wrong..."

David smiled sheepishly. "I seriously doubt that."

Annie stifled her laughter. "You're telling that I am right, then?"

"Well," David replied as he stopped, placing his hands on his pockets—a mannerism Annie seemed to notice. "That depends on what you're actually thinking."

"I told you, I could be wrong and then I would embarrass myself."

"No, tell me. What are you thinking of then?"

Annie fidgeted on the strap of her satchel. David took a step closer and held her arms. He laughed slightly and said,

"I won't laugh, I promise."

Annie looked up at him and scowled. "I don't believe you."

"Well then you have to because really, I won't."

Annie suddenly felt her surroundings to be a bit cramped. When she looked around though, they were well past the crowded square and were already in the middle of the West Beach, alone, with only a few exceptions of some people walking on the other side of the shore. Should she tell him?

No. Yes?

"Will you laugh then if _I _tell you something?" he spoke again before she could even finish the debate on her head.

"I'll try?" was the only thing she could finally come up with.

David chuckled. "Clever. Now I am afraid _I'll_ embarrass myself."

He started walking towards their familiar spot near the bonfire pit. He sat down casually and motioned for her to come and sit beside him.

"I didn't know guys could be embarrassed." Annie said when she settled down.

"Of course we do. Why do you think we keep on practicing with the heavy weaponries at the Training Room if not to boost our egos? We are also fragile little human beings, you know."

"That is so hard to believe." Annie laughed.

"Really, we are! Just because we could carry twenty, thirty kilos of fish during the hauls doesn't mean we are made out of rocks. We are, you know, quite sensitive too at times."

Annie nodded, because truly, it may be true. Because by any means, she thought about her father, how soft and gentle he had always been to her and her mother, Winona. She remembered his daily rations of lavender to her mom, the little tea sets he'd buy from the thrift shop, the pressed flowers he'd collected with her over the years, the mini apron he tried to fit when Annie asked for a cooking partner when she was twelve, the lovely serenades she'd hear from her parents room even after her mom had died almost nine years ago... Willard Cresta was not only a competitive and talented fisherman, but he was also a loving and caring husband and father.

David started playing with the sand.

"It's such an overpowering feeling, though," he continued. "When we—I—get sentimental. Maybe it's not something that's innate to us males. We get scared by the thought of it."

"Why?"

David shrugged. "Maybe because that's not what we're supposed to do. And we're scared to admit that we do feel intense emotions at times."

"Do you get scared by it?"

"By what? Emotions?"

"Yes, emotions."

David looked thoughtful as he still continued messing up and making patterns in the beach sand. Then he looked at the shore and the setting sun with a mischievous smile. Every part of his lovely face was all the more highlighted by the colors of the sky. Annie couldn't help but gape. That foreign feeling—of warmth and comfort—that had been with her since he walked her to the Victors' Village a few days back instantly intensified, most especially when he turned to look at her with his deep gray eyes.

He finally let out a huff and looked at her intently. "You won't laugh?"

"I won't."

David let out another sigh as he smiled and took her hand.

"You are the most wonderful girl I've ever laid my eyes on, Annie."

She felt her cheeks warmed as he grasped her hand harder. He reached to cup her face and held it for a long time before speaking again breathlessly, as if too overwhelmed.

"And you clearly have no idea what you are doing to me."

* * *

><p>"Finnick!"<p>

A loud and joyous cry echoed and welcomed Finnick in the almost empty and darkening _Brueler's Docks_ as he made his way to meet Danny. Johnny already went up ahead with Linda (who talked her way out of detention by arguing that to serve detention because of Lit class all the more confirmed it to be a real subject) to the Cross-Fisher household to meet with Liz. Linda promised some fantastic news and that she really wanted everyone present there for dinner. She even giddily promised cooking her famous clam chowder.

It was up until that moment when Thomas Ray shouted his name that Finnick forgot about the said chowder for a few minutes. He couldn't deny at how much he missed the boy.

"Tom!" Finnick shouted back and instead of going straight to the shack to where Danny was, he crossed the docks towards the running 12-year old boy.

"Finnick!" Thomas shouted once more as he collided with Finnick and had him in an embrace. "How come you haven't visited yet? Mom was waiting you know. And I was too! It's been a week since you got back, no fair!"

"I know, I know." Finnick ruffled the boy's also darkened bronze hair as they let go. "But I've been quite... busy."

Depressed wasn't the right word to say to such an overjoyed kid. In fact, he might not even register the word with his intense adrenalin rush at the moment.

"I was saying to dad the other day that maybe, just _maybe_, I get to have the trident at practice tomorrow. Collin's always at it whenever we go to training classes. You now Collin, right? The fourteen year-old, blonde nitwit? He's a ninth grader but we get to share the room with them during training. He's always flashing the trident out and about just because he threatened anyone who gets in his way. But he couldn't even get it across a few meters! Not like the way you do it! Also, Stella's not being cooperative at home, you know. Always crying and finishing all the soup. But I don't mind. Her hair's getting really curly like mom's and it makes me laugh whenever it tickles dad if he carries her."

Finnick chuckled as Thomas went on about the five months of his almost teenaged-life that Finnick missed while he was still at the Capitol. Somewhere nearer in the shack at _Brueler's,_ Finnick could just make out Danny and Thomas' father chatting and tying up the Rays' boat.

"Are you going to join in the Summer Haul, Fin?" asked Thomas as they started to walk back towards the shack.

"Well, I don't intend to, to be honest."

"Why not? You haven't joined the Haul since, right?"

"Well..." Finnick scratched his head as the persistent Thomas looked at him curiously.

"Oh, c'mon, Finnick! It would be awesome! We could use our boat. We could do it together!"

"Aren't you too young for the Haul?"

"What? Mom said Uncle Frank joined when he was twelve and I'm almost thirteen, you know."

Finnick grinned. It was true. His father, Frank Odair, joined the annual Summer Haul when he was only twelve, with the insistence of course of his father and little sister, Irvette.

"You do know that joining the Haul is practically saying you are ready to get married? And yes, Thomas, you are just twelve years old."

"Almost thirteen!" Thomas stuck his tongue out. "And who says something about marriage? Marriage is for guys like you who like girls like... Cathryn."

"Cathryn?"

"Yeah, isn't she your age, Fin? Collins said she is the prettiest at school. Do you agree?"

Finnick looked up again to the nearing shack where Danny and Marion Ray were waiting for them. He had to get a move on from this.

"Do you agree, Fin?" Thomas repeated.

"No, of course not."

"Yeah, I thought so too. I think Annie's the prettiest. Nicest too."

Finnick chuckled. How the same blood runs in their veins. "Yeah, she is."

"The prettiest or the nicest?"

Finnick ruffled Thomas' hair again as he laughed quite genuinely.

"Both." He finally replied.

"Dylan had a crush on her, did you know?"

Finnick looked down incredulously at his young companion. Dylan? But before he could reply, Thomas was yelling and running again. This time, though, towards his father.

"Dad! Look who I found!"

"Yeah, I noticed." Marion chuckled. "How much would you think he'd sell? A thousand, perhaps?"

Finnick winced.

"Well, I think he'd sell better than the red snappers." Danny joined in the joke, easing much of the tension Finnick knew was instantly coating the docks.

"Well that makes me feel so much better." Finnick replied as he reached the three men waiting and forced himself to smile. "Uncle Marion. It's been a while."

"Finnick."

Finnick offered his hands to which Marion shook. Finnick felt he was being appraised again in the Capitol, like he was truly a fish to be delivered to the market to be sold. Marion knew nothing of his trades, but Finnick couldn't help but feel the bitterness towards such thoughts.

If he only knew.

"Can he stay with us, dad? Please? Stella and mom would be very, very, surprised if Fin comes home with us."

Marion looked at his son, then to Finnick. He was expressionless and seemed to urge Finnick to say something instead.

"It's alright, Tom." Finnick reasoned. "I don't want to intrude. And like I said, I'm quite busy."

Thomas' grin faltered a bit and all the three grown up men seemed to notice.

"Intrude? But..."

"I wouldn't be too far. I promise."

That didn't seem to do the trick. Thomas continued to give him those kinds of glances a person wouldn't want to receive from a child, those sad, disappointed, and frustrated kinds of looks.

"You know what, Finnick." Marion suddenly spoke. "Maybe just dinner. Your aunt would really appreciate that."

The victor looked at his uncle. Was he kidding?

"Uh, I don't know, Uncle Marion. I do have somewhere to be. You know, Danny and I have some plans." Finnick glanced at the shack proprietor. "It's been scheduled—"

"Plans? No, no!" Danny cut him off. "That's not important. You go along at the Rays for a while. I'll tell Linda and the others where you're at. They won't mind, believe me."

"But..."

Tom clobbered him again. "Yes! Mom would be so surprised!"

"Well, there you go, Finnick."

"Danny..."

"Finnick, they won't mind!"

"Maybe just next time if you really are too busy." Marion said. Finnick didn't need to look at his uncle to see the gleaming hope in his face showing that he, too, was just hoping for a next time.

"But dad!"

"No, Marion, believe me, Finnick could go." Danny assured.

Tom, Marion and Finnick left after a few more and much more dignified assurances from Danny that Linda won't mind. He kidded that it may just be about some cute guy she met at the market or something. He also promised Finnick that they would leave some clam chowder for him. Still, though, Finnick looked desperately at Danny as he started walking away from the shack with the Rays. But Danny was stern.

Finnick needed to see the Rays. They were his family after all.

* * *

><p>"Ahh, so you finally decided to show!"<p>

"Alright, I'm sorry. I know I should've visited sooner. But you know how busy I've been."

"Excuses."

"Oh, please don't be mad."

"Well, come over here you silly girl and give me a hug."

Annie Cresta made her way towards the elderly Magdalene Navi who was seating in a large wicker chair in the middle of the cavernous Victor's house. It's been almost two weeks since she last visited. But it was true that Annie was busy with school works and a lot of other things.

"Don't you ever think I'll buy your excuses young lady—not when I hear that you are seeing that Gray boy almost every day at the beach."

"Oh, c'mon, Mags. He's just a friend."

"Not the way he looks at you, I hear."

"Oh you. You never really stop gossiping."

"Well, it's the only good entertainment we have nowadays." Mags snorted. "So what about that young boy?"

"Do you want some tea?" Annie placed her satchel down at the larger wicker chair beside Mags and started towards the kitchen.

"Don't you change the subject young lady." Annie heard Mags stood up from her chair and followed suit, her dependable cane making familiar clicking sounds at the marble floors.

"There's nothing to discuss, I told you."

Annie started filling up the gleaming kettle with water and then placed it on the stove. She then opened the third cupboard from her left and pulled out two gigantic ceramic mugs. On the drawer just below the same cupboard, boxes of tea were arranged according to their flavours.

"What do you want? Earl, chamomile, Jasmine, Darjeeling? Goodness, Mags you have a factory here."

"Like you have never seen them before." Mags rolled her eyes.

Tea and scones were their routine. Annie would be at the house by six in the evening and Mags would be in the wicker chair waiting for her. A couple of hugs and kisses, with some bantering most of the times,would be exchanged and then the ceremonious clanging of utensils, mugs and boiling water would come next. The freshly baked scones was always delivered by the district baker (on Mags' request as she can't walk too much now) and kept inside the oven to maintain its heat before Annie arrived to lay them out on the ceramics.

"Your best friend came by with a pot of clam chowder." Mags grumbled as she finally reached the kitchen then towards the adjoining dining hall across. "She said she knew you would be visiting."

Annie stopped arranging the scones on the plate.

"I told her I would be visiting you tod—hang on," Annie's eyes widened in understanding. "Was she the one who told you about David?"

"I didn't say nothing, deary. But her chowder was very good. I left some for you on the pot over there at the counter."  
>"Well, she does make good chowders..."Annie rolled her eyes. She can never win against Mags.<p>

Annie grudgingly took the pot and poured some to a small bowl. She took the food to the dining table where Mags was already sitting in one of the chairs and was attempting to drag another to rest her legs up.

"They're not hurting you again, are they?" Annie asked and eyeing the older's legs warily.

"No need to be surprised. I'm already seventy five years old. God knows I could collapse any moment now."

"Mags..."

Mags waved her hand impatiently at Annie, as if dismissing her. Mags, in the longest time that Annie knew her, was never the one you had to feel sorry for. But then again, Annie always knew she and her father were exceptions.

"Have you seen your doctor lately?" Annie pursued.

"Drop it, Annie."

"Or have you been eating all those nuts again?"

"Tell me about that boy?"

"Have you been eating nuts again?"

"Linda said that he's very handsome."

"Mags!"

"He better be good-looking."

"Oh I give up!" Annie rolled her eyes and attended to the now whistling kettle behind them at the kitchen. She could hear Mags laughing victoriously.

"Okay, you can laugh now, Mags. But summer's coming soon and you would want to walk in the beach. But not when your knees and ankles hurt like hell."

Annie went back to the table with two steaming mugs of tea. Mags was frowning at her, like a little child who was grounded for life.

"Oh, don't look at me like that. If you want to go to the beach, you have to walk and when you have to walk, you have to use your—"

"I can walk. Oh, how much you remind me of your mother. Stubborn like an old piece of gum stuck underneath the table."

Annie sputtered some of her tea. "Mags!"

The two of them laughed heartily and had finally settled into a more thoughtful conversation. Annie told Mags about the new poem she learned at the Government School and how Mr. Appalach—"And a certain classmate." she sneered—hated the verses.

"I mean, it's not that bad really. It was insightful. Partially unnerving but—"

"Unnerving?" Mags inquired. "How?"

"Well, for one I think it also dealt not only with love but also with death and betrayal."

"Hmm."

"But it is definitely, _definitely_, not overrated. I mean, sure we encounter those all the time, but really, when was the last time we actually _dealt_ with it? Actually _felt _it?"

"What, death?" Mags sipped from her tea and watched Annie from the rim of her mug. Annie was silent for a moment.

"But I agree that it is not overrated." Mags continued as she settled the mug once more. "One can only imagine the intense pain death can bring—and could only envision the intense joy _love_ can bestow."

Annie looked at her grandmother intently. Of course she would know these things. Mags had spent most of her life witnessing, if not experiencing, the death and loss of the people around her—of the people she loved. Of the tributes she helped mentor, or of the twin sister she volunteered for.

"I miss her a lot, my dear Annie."

"Oh, Mags." Annie leaned forward and took the victors wrinkled and weakened hands.

"I just wish I could've saved her."

"You did, Mags. You saved Nana from the Games. You even won the games!"

"Oh, but to lose her because of some illness." Mags grasped Annie's hands tighter. "I never in my mind doubted that in some ways, _they_ would eventually get back to me."

"Mags..."

"Margarita never died of some influenza they made up. I know that. I am sure of that." Mags wailed.

Margarita Navi, who soon became Margarita Seazer, was never the one to hurt a fly. She was in some ways, the exact opposite of Mags despite their identical features. While Mags was feisty, Rita was shy and reserved, always accompanied by thick volumes of books and clippings. She also loved to cook and would spend the entire day ploughing the gardens where she'd grow all sorts of vegetables and herbs. Mags, on the other hand, while still lovely and gentle, was always on the beach participating in swim races, fishing expeditions, and any other Bonfire events. Mags was outgoing while Rita was blessed with tenderness even the people around her wouldn't let an insect come near her. So it was just so natural, so obvious, so predictable, and yet so heartbreaking, to witness what had happened all those years ago.

Grandma Rita, Mags' twin sister and Annie's maternal grandmother, was reaped during the 12th Hunger Games. But like any other loving sister, Mags volunteered in her place.

But three years after, when both sisters were twenty years old, Margarita became ill after visiting the Capitol with Mags due to her Victor's privilege. The doctors concluded that Margarita picked up an unknown disease when they were travelling back to the District. After a few weeks, she died in her bed, leaving her husband Don and one year old daughter Winona on their own.

Some said Mags never forgave herself. Willard Cresta even believed that Mags felt that the Capitol had something to do with it. For some reasons, they had to kill Margarita. For one, Mags was the first ever to use the volunteer option in the games. Hence, to Willard's explanation, she created the first _crack_. That little fracture in the perfect glass ball of the Capitol.

"But it's just all theories and hearsays." He'd always recoil.

Annie, even with her young mind back then, just glimpsing Grandma Rita through pictures and in Mags' similar attributes, had never forgotten the strangely similar position and story she was in. Winona died when she as only nine, widowing Willard just barely months before the tenth anniversary of their wedding and orphaning Annie of a mother's love before she could even tie her first fishing knot.

"I think you should head back home, Annie." Mags was finally able to murmur, gently releasing Annie's hand and patting it before finally losing contact. "We had enough tea, I think."

Annie smiled sadly at her grandmother. How many times had she seen her this way? How many times had she seen her lose her composure? How many times had Annie watched Mags zone out and recollect all her guilt and wish for reprieve?

Too many. Too many to even count.

Annie wished she just didn't bring about the topic of the poetry. But either way, she knew Mags would eventually find a way to torture herself.

The saddest thing about it, though, as Annie started to clean the dishes they used, was how fleeting it all had been. No matter how routinary, no matter how agonizing and piercing the memories were, remembering Margarita and her death had to happen at passing. No one had the heart to linger on it. Not even Mags. Not because it was hurtful to remember, but because there already was some sort of a resignation. That no one can do anything about her death except to just simply remember, even as fleeting, the excruciating pain of loss.

Annie went back to the living room where Mags was again sitting on her wicker chair, now weaving some nets.

"You'll visit me soon, you hear me my Annie?" Mags smiled at her, no trace of the earlier loneliness on her face.

Again, fleeting.

Annie forced herself to smile. She crouched down beside the chair and admired the handiwork. Mags had always been talented.

"I will, I promise." She replied.

"You can help me finish this, you know. It is the summer holidays in a few days' time."

"Of course."

"You can bring darling David with you too if you like."

"Mags." Annie rolled her eyes and genuinely laughed lightly.

"Well, at least invite him inside for a few minutes before you dismiss him. God knows how far he had to walk back to his house."

"Mags!"

"I see things clearly from this chair, Annie. _And it is still my porch_. I was waiting for you guys to have a good-bye kiss, you know."

"Oh I am not hearing this anymore." Annie, now like a little child being teased, picked up her satchel, planted a kiss on Mags' forehead and started walking towards the door.

"He did walk you here, didn't he? Is he waiting for you now?"

"Bye, Mags."

"Oh, and Annie," Mags called after her, chuckling a bit. "I did eat some nuts."

* * *

><p>Finnick left Danny's house in a daze. Surely (he had hoped again), this was not the same Wednesday. It can't be that same damn Wednesday. He truly had enough for one day—for his whole lifetime.<p>

He tugged his sweater more tightly around him and pulled the strap of his rucksack. He definitely needed a long hot shower to ease his mind from all the stresses of this one stupid day.

He knew Danny and David were at fault for this certain suffering of his. David because, well, he was being David around Annie, and Danny, because he was being the self-righteous Danny Finnick loathed about him. The only good thing that came out from this day's rendezvous was seeing Tom, Stella, and Irvette—and Linda's clam chowder.

Tom was obviously at his ends wit when they arrived at their house almost sundown. Finnick could just make out the two women of the household; both had incredulously blonde, wild, and curly hair that fell past their waists. Like Tom at the docks, his Aunt Irvette tackled him with the warm yet rib-breaking hug.

"I thought you'd never come." She exhaled. "Oh, how much I've missed you, Finnick!"

"Well, I've missed you too."

If Finnick could only say he had a bearable time with the Rays. The unfortunate thing about the reunion was how forced it all seemed to be. For him, for his aunt, for his uncle... it was all showmanship for their children, Tom and Stella.

They had a delicious dinner care of Irvette and some of the mud crabs Tom and Marion had caught earlier on. Finnick spent most of his time playing with the two-year old Stella while waiting to be dismissed from the household. Despite the noise both Tom and Stella were making, Finnick knew, even though he couldn't really hear, of the distinct conversation of his aunt and uncle while they were doing the dishes. Sure, Aunt Irvette made it all less awkward; her being all motherly and supportive, asking the right questions a mother would ask after her son got home from school. But it didn't let Finnick experience the satisfaction in knowing that she was not disappointed with him. That when she finally dried her hands with a towel and crossed the small space to reach him in the living area to finally hug him again, her feelings of regret were still clearly readable in her eyes.

Finnick wasn't forgiven yet.

Marion Ray, although related only through his marriage to Irvette Odair, was more determined to hate him. After the death of Frank, Natalia, and Dylan, everyone in the district knew that Finnick would definitely stay with the Rays. Marion was more than thrilled. But Finnick, now thought to be completely full of himself—as what Marion had made of him now—decided to leave the District for the luxuries of the Capitol. That the Rays' house: shabby, small, old and dirty, was totally out of a Victor's league.

Finnick wanted nothing but for his aunt and uncle to know the truth. But when he chose to leave them and start his trades in the Capitol, he knew that at least, they were one less family he needed to worry about.

He left the Rays house with promises of returning and scheduling more fishing escapades with Tom. The last few glances he had with both Irvette and Marion told him that they, too, feared that it might not actually happen. So Finnick took the pleasure in knowing that when he reaches the Cross-Fisher household a few blocks away from the Rays, he would finally be in good-company. But Linda, as what his instincts had been telling him since that morning, was born to also make him suffer a great deal.

The annoyance started to creep up on him again when she mentioned about Annie's upcoming birthday—and just when he was enjoying his first bowl of chowder.

"She's turning eighteen so I want to make it special. Last year of eligibility, right?"

The party talk went on and on. From the paper napkins to be used, to the colors of the banners, to the food Liz and Linda will prepare... Finnick barely participated and just kept on nodding if he was asked. Nothing remained inside his head for the longest time. Perhaps, he had hoped, Johnny will remind him later on.

He was all too glad when Liz and Linda giddily expressed their thanks and wished everyone a goodnight. He and Johnny walked Linda home and a few minutes after, Johnny also waved his goodbye.

So, here he was, twenty minutes later, walking at the emptying town square and towards the large iron gates of the Victor's Village with a large and painful headache. Finnick anticipated the long, hot shower he would be taking back at his bathroom, but first, there was something he needed to do.

"Hey, Mags. Nice net."

Finnick walked towards one of the chairs and collapsed on it, hearing a rather loud chuckle from Mags.

"A long day?" she asked.

"You don't want to know." Finnick managed to groan.

"I've been hearing excuses all day, you try me."

Finnick laughed and looked at the elderly. If there was anyone on the entire world who could understand him, it was Mags. Mags and her smart aleck self. She was like his own personal sponge that willingly and automatically absorbed and shared his pain and loneliness. For a moment there, as he still sat at the wicker chair and observing Mags' delicate weaving, Finnick felt lighter.

Then there it was. That certain bond the Hunger Games created for their unfortunate Victors.

Silence.

"Annie just left a couple of minutes ago. Didn't you see her?" Mags finally spoke.

"No." Finnick replied. _And thank god for that._

"Ahh, yes, maybe she did take the back route. It leads directly to the beach."

He continued to watch Mags weave the net. It still surprised him that even with that old age of hers, the pattern was impeccable. The net wasn't too tight nor the spaces too big. It was just perfect.

"You need to teach me how you do that, Mags. The one's I've been weaving's enough to trap people but not fish."

Mags laughed.

"Well it's summer time. You can help me finish this."

Promising that he would, and hoping that busying himself would take his head off from the dreaded day of returning to the Capitol, he left Mags' house and headed towards his own.

Finnick immediately went to his very spacious bathroom and started the shower. He was just about to remove his clothing when somewhere, he assumed coming from the shores behind the victor houses, he heard laughter so familiar it made him nervous. He peered at the smallish window in the bathroom directly viewing the backyard beach. And just like a few nights ago, when he saw him waiting for her at the benches as she retreated from his victor's house after a very unsuccessful apology—and just when he thought things could not get worse for him—David and Annie were taking the back route, happily and merrily, as if the white and luminous moonbeams were made for them.

So Finnick did what he did best. He turned around, slipped off all articles of clothing, and submerged himself in the hot tub. As long as he was in the hot water, nothing hurt and mattered much. Because for the nearing summer season, it surely was too cold tonight.

* * *

><p><em>AN: Reviews are love! Sorry it took so long to update! But I hope it's worth it! :) The poem that Linda read is "Don't Go Far Off" by Pablo Neruda. Also, all the chapter titles are lines from different Neruda poems as well. <em>


	5. An Ode to a Large Tuna in the Market

_**Chapter 5:**_

_An Ode to a Large Tuna in the Market_

"I told you it was your job to get fresh clams! What is wrong with you, Pearson?" Linda scoffed loudly at the curly, ash-blonde haired boy sitting at the dining room of Danny and Elizabeth's house inflating purple plastic balloons.

"Those are fresh!" Johnny bellowed. "I should know I caught them myself."

"You don't 'catch' a clam, Johnny. You pick them!"

"Fine! Pick, catch, buy_,_ _whatever_, I don't care! I've been harassing myself buying all these things and here you go nagging on me without even saying thank you!"

Linda snorted again and started to work on her clam chowder in the kitchen.

Elizabeth Fisher—soon to be Lizzie Cross—walked inside her small, but charming house when she heard the ruckus.

"What now?" She kidded. Elizabeth had been babysitting the blondes for barely just half an hour now and she already didn't know how long she could take their bantering.

Johnny, as childish as he could, pointed angrily at Linda, while the latter, as snobbish as what she always wanted most people to see her, raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, very mature Johnny." The female blonde retorted. "And don't mind us, Lizzie, he's just being dumb."

"She was being dumb!" Johnny recoiled.

"I was not! I told you to get fresh clams! What if we get poisoned by this junk you gave me?"

"I told you they are fresh, how do you say so that they are not?"

"Are you kidding me—"

"Unfortunately I'm not Linda, because as you can see—"

"—these clams are all useless!"

"Are you questioning my ability to fish? Because let me tell—"

"You don't even fish, Pearson—you have one bloody little boat and you call yourself a fisherman?"

"Now you are getting on to something!"

"Well yes, I think I do!"

"Alright Simmons, you asked for—"

"Alright, hold it!" Elizabeth Fisher—again soon to be Elizabeth Cross—stood in between the skirmishing teenagers and held her hands up. "What is the matter with you two?"

Linda grumbled and crossed her arms as Johnny rolled his eyes and got back to inflating the balloons.

"Seriously?" Elizabeth asked again, looking back and forth to both blondes. "The clams look perfect Linda, and yes, thank you Johnny for buying all the necessities. Now tell me what the matter is."

When none of the teenagers spoke and continued to pretend that they were busy with their tasks, Elizabeth shook her head and sat on the chair across Johnny.

"Look," she continued. "I don't know what's going on with you guys but it seems to me that this is just more than the clams."

Elizabeth watched as Linda continued to stir the pot nonchalantly but that one millisecond scoff—the quirk of her eyebrow, the quick deep breath—betrayed her composure. And Johnny seemed to be the more disturbed with whatever the confusion was. Elizabeth noted that apart from being quite angry, he looked a ton more worried than Linda.

Then suddenly, there it was! Elizabeth noticed. The glance—that swift eye contact between the teenagers that she was waiting for.

"You two better tell me now." Elizabeth tried to urge them again to speak-up.

She watched Johnny as he took a deep breath and snatched another glance towards Linda. The other blonde, with her long and sleek tresses, nodded as if confirming and agreeing with the boy's thoughts. Then, Linda arranged her apron as if composing herself, and after a short while—with a dignified although anxious huff—she finally turned to Elizabeth and spoke.

"We have a situation."

(A Solitary Man of War)

The dills were growing impeccably.

Willard Cresta wasn't even sure it would be sprouting at this time of the year but there it was! True he missed the tomatoes, which unfortunately became a victim of his dear daughter's wrath a few weeks ago, but seeing the new ones finally sprung themselves off the dirt was redemption of their own kind.

It was a special day too, now that he reminded himself. Fresh lobsters would be for lunch, maybe a fresh catfish salad for starters, and a cream cheese frost for dessert. He hadn't thought about dinner yet, though. But that was another circumstance... He could plan on that later.

What he didn't expect this morning though, as he was tenderly watering his garden, was the arrival of two gentle lads—much too different from each other but both quite persistent in their own unique ways.

They were both tall and familiar. Maybe in their late teens. One had a slightly dark hair, the other quite lighter. Both had asked for favours, one for himself and the other for a special someone.

What Willard Cresta found astoundingly funny was that even though both men specified favours of two different things, their similarities were quite uncanny.

For one, they both wanted to make an impression.

* * *

><p>(10 hours before)<p>

Finnick was already awake for almost ten minutes. He was still feeling a bit groggy but at the same time he did not want to sleep. He decided to simply lie back on his bed and keep his eyes opened and his body splayed funnily on the bed.

His ceiling wasn't really the first thing he wanted to see in the morning, but even his eyeballs didn't want to move. Every once in a while, after Finnick realized he'd been steady for so long already, he felt the urge to finally shift knowing that just a few feet away, there was the large window overlooking the sea and how in a few more minutes, it would display the sunrise. It was quite similar with the sunset, he knew, but there was something so intriguing about the sunrise that despite the sunset's more vivid colors, sunrises were far more appealing for him.

Once again, he urged his body to stir. He blinked once, compelled his fingers to move, his mouth to slightly open... stating in his hazy mind how thankful he was that Danny didn't think of coming in unannounced and wake him from his sleep because truly, all Finnick wanted to do now was to be alone.

There was never a moment after he won the 65th Hunger Games that he had the chance to be in solitude: Flickerman wanting another interview, Chivy Dweller arranging different visits, women all over the country wanting to grapple him, Danny always annoying him to death, Johnny following him wherever he went...

Couldn't they see the beauty of how it was to be isolated yet at peace—that there was just really something so lovely about the silence?

Despite all the denial he will be going through for the rest of the day, he knew that the truth will still hang over his head like a constant reminder for those few rare moments that he seemed to already forget.

He always tried not to think of all the strangers he kissed; the forced smiles he committed; the false love he promised. The memories were like a cold trickle of water down his back, and for six o'clock in the morning, this was not the way he wanted so start his morning.

For all the days he woke up like this, feeling dreadful and _just dead_, Finnick constantly wished for one thing—as apparently, the bitterness and the unfairness will continue to shape his already lonely life. He wanted to simply have that time to grieve, to grieve the reality that he was no longer himself. That he could no longer be just Finnick.

He gave a sad sigh, signalling his daily surrender, and finally sat on the bed (of course, as routinely as he could, further more playing in on his own joke of a life). This reality would had made him shed some repressed tears, but there was just numbness that all his brain can process and his mouth can produce was a light snort.

He was done trying. And as what his mantra reminded him every day, every morning, like a habit unsuccessfully altered—_it was long gone_. And it seemed silly for him to even hope it could one day change.

What he can do now, as he always did every morning, was to admire the things—the spaces—that still hold true to their own being. Like the sky. Always way, way untouchable, unreachable—ever so intangible but would forever be so real. Everyone knew that _it would just be there_.

Finnick rubbed his eyes as he finally stood up from the bed—flexed his sore muscles, shook his head a little, rubbed his eyelids—and walked across the room to the window. He slid the window open and welcomed the breeze that familiarly smelled like brine and freshly cut grass.

From the bluish glow, Finnick watched how the skies transformed to become lighter and lighter, becoming the spectacle he was waiting to see. The sun's rays slowly sneaked inside his room; on his walls, his bed, even attempting to touch his skin.

Everything else in view seemed to work in harmony as well. The waves crashing to the beach, the children playing in the more distant shore, the mast of a couple of boats or so preparing for some hauls, the lovely lady walking towards another victor's house...

Finnick jolted as if he was punched in the stomach.

Even though he couldn't see her up-close, he knew perfectly of her glassy sea green eyes and how at certain times of the day—depending on the weather and the brightness of the sun—did it become slightly identical with his own.

And then suddenly, just with that quick glimpse of her, _suddenly_ Finnick found himself leaning and resting his arms on the window pane, watching as she crossed the Victor's lane and into the next house.

She was wearing a white sundress and her hair was flowing freely with the wind. She was walking slowly, as if contemplating how the sand crushed beneath her foot or how the glow of the morning rays made her look—radiant, beautiful, _breathtaking_?

Slightly recovering, Finnick ran a hand through his head and smiled, feeling somewhat sheepish.

She was so near and it would only take a mere minute to 'accidentally' bump into her —five seconds to grab a clean shirt, another five to pull decent pants, ten seconds to brush his teeth, a short three seconds to comb his hair, the remaining thirty seven seconds to get out of his house...

It didn't matter if he looked groggy or if he had forgotten to wash his face in that equation. She would understand of course, as she always did. It wouldn't matter to her what he looked like, as it wouldn't matter to him that the slightest glance of her made his head spin in excitement. Because all that should matter was that she was just_ right there_ and he was _just here_—a few feet away from each other, seemingly a perfect fit, but never had an opportunity of a perfect timing.

He shook his head at the thought of that certain loop-hole in his grandiose daydreaming. Still somewhat embarrassed (self-conscious and giddy like a twelve year-old), he craned his neck to catch the final glimpses of her—craned and leaned in further, holding on to the pane to keep him from falling. With the final swish of her white skirt though, she finally disappeared into the house.

Now that was a tad bit complicated him being totally in to her. Because the fact remains to Finnick that aside from having no idea if she knew of his feelings, she didn't like him the way that _he liked her_—and that they were actually still not in good terms at the moment; and that although he wanted to be so close to her and tell her the truth, he knew he would be jeopardizing everything; and that when he jeopardized everything, if anything happens to her because of him, he didn't know how he could forgive himself.

Finnick looked back into the ocean and closed his eyes, thinking of this one other truth that would ultimately become the death of him.

Annie could never be anything but a fleeting moment in his life. And even though he had always known of what—who—he wanted for the longest time now, she was something he could not afford.

Not when he knew with all certainty that he could be her greatest demise.

(Among These Frail Vegetables)

"Good morning, sir."

"Well good morning to you to, Mr. Pearson." Johnny took the friendly smile of Willard Cresta as a good sign.

"If you are looking for my daughter though, I'm afraid she already left." Willard continued. "Mags seemed to be in dire need of her to make some breakfast."

"That's nice."

"Yeah, you know Annie."

"Of course, she's the best Mr. Cresta."

Willard chuckled. "Oh please, call me Willard. You've been one of Annie's friends for the longest time now. You are no different, son."

Johnny smiled at that. There was no wonder almost everyone in the district adore this father and daughter. They were the nicest people in existence.

"Actually, I'm not here to see Annie, —I mean, Willard."

"Oh?"

"Yes," Johnny nodded in emphasis. "I am actually here... to ask you something."

For a second there, Johnny noticed the surprised and curious look of Willard. But after a while, he was back to his good-natured and jolly self.

"How about a nice cup of tea inside then?" Willard finally went on.

Johnny breathed a sigh of relief. "Yes, why not. That would be really great."

Willard chuckled as he led him to the small, and quite pleasant house of the Crestas.

Despite Johnny's lack of knowledge in the art of housekeeping, he could simply describe the house in one word: charismatic. The living room wasn't as pristine clean as you would expect it to be, but it has character. Willard's fishing equipments complete the messy look but certainly, Annie's touch—a flowery vase at the center of the coffee table, a quilted blanket spread on the couch , a few shell decorations—made the entire house look nice and homey.

"I'm really sorry to be a bother." Johnny continued, sitting on the comfy couch. "I just really need to ask a favour."

He heard Willard scrambling in the kitchen probably preparing the tea he promised. When he reappeared he was holding two big mugs in each hand.

"A favour you said?" Willard replied, handing Johnny his tea.

"Yes, a favour. A huge one, as a matter of fact."

"Well," Willard settled on a wooden chair opposite the couch, creaking a little when he did so. "Let's see what we can do."

Johnny took a sip of his tea before settling his mug on the coffee table. "But you have to promise me one thing,." He explained.

Willard raised an eyebrow in response.

"You have to promise me," Johnny continued, a determined look set on his face. "That you won't tell anyone. Not yet at least."

Johnny believed with all certainty that Willard would think of him as crazy and naive. But he was desperate—no, passionate—that he would take great lengths just to be able to _do it_. He was on the edge of his seat waiting for the older man to make a response when finally, Willard cleared his throat then nodded his head as if impressed.

"I promise."

* * *

><p>Elizabeth Fisher had been teased time and again how at certain times, she became a perfectionist. She denied it when she was little even if it was apparent that even the slightest crease on her notepad displeased her. So when she promised to help out for tonight's festivities, she gave herself a good pat on the back, a deep breath, and a huge amount of self-control before proceeding with the chore list she prepared the night before.<p>

The house simply needed to be very presentable. And it took a lot of effort on her part not to become overly zealous for such a simple task. From the list, she calmly started by washing the dishes and then letting them dry, then she moved on to tend the garden on her so-called front yard while saving the backyard as her last task. She also started to arrange some decorations she were to put on the dining table and even planned to pick some lavenders to add a feminine flair.

By mid morning, Elizabeth was already congratulating herself for doing such a great job with the errands, when a certain Danny Cross ultimately _crossed _her peaceful rhythm. It didn't help too that instead of greeting her with a lovely good morning, he instead said,

"I'm sorry, love. Can't do it."

Not controlling the frown forming on her face, Elizabeth stood from the potted ivy geraniums she was trimming in the living room and faced her beloved.

"I don't know what you mean, Danny."

She watched as Danny approached her with a frown of his own. He dropped his duffel bag on the couch and sighed. He was walking slowly too, as if trying to decipher how testy she was at the moment. When she didn't give him any sign of movement and was still utterly looking at him with the same frown, he finally went for the kill and gave her a peck on the cheek.

"I saw your note from this morning before I left." Danny continued.

"And? What I am asking you is the simplest of all the jobs." Elizabeth finally budged.

"Oh, Liz. You don't know what you are talking about."

Elizabeth huffed. "Okay, so why don't you clean the house, shop for all the food, and decorate the entire dining area? And why don't you also start pulling out the weeds in the back yard to make it look quite nice too?"

"No can do, love." Danny replied again smoothly, scooping her in his arms. "Besides, I will be the one on the grill later—don't worry, I will be wearing my apron."

Unfortunately for her, Danny landed the both of them on the couch she just finished arranging.

"You are not being helpful today, you know." Elizabeth complained, straightening up. Danny pinned her down again where they lay entangled with everything—pillows, covers, legs and arms.

"What are you saying, woman? I am the most dependable man out here in Four."

"Then why can't you do what I ask you to do?"

"What the groceries? Fine, I'll do them—"

"No, not the groceries. The other _thing_."

"Ahh, well."

Danny rested his head on Elizabeth's shoulder as he took a deep breath.

"You know how it is, Liz. I can't make him do that."

"Why not?"

"It's unfair. Besides, do you think she would like that?"

"I don't know, maybe? She is very... kind."

Danny seemed to be thinking about it. "Perhaps you are right. But that is not enough reason."

"But we have to do something, Danny. We can't just sit here and wait for them to figure it all out themselves, because heaven forbid, look at how much progress they made. It's as if they're still fifteen."

"Maybe they still are!" he retorted. "Why are you fretting so much about this?"

That rubbed her off a bit. He had to know of her efforts not to become such a perfectionist. He had to know the amount of patience she had reserved.

"I don't know!" Elizabeth recoiled. "Maybe because it's the summer time again? We can never be so lucky, Danny."

She thought he was about to retort but opted to stop himself. Elizabeth knew she was right if you look at it in the right angles. No one knew how much time _they _had left. But she also knew that meddling with others' business didn't generally seem favourable as well. And unfortunately, Danny knew it too.

But surely, there were far worse truths than the Hunger Games, right?

"Danny..." Elizabeth tugged at his shirt when he didn't respond.

"Oh, Liz." Danny groaned, recovering from his thoughts. "You need to stop this obsession."

"Danny!" Liz grudgingly sat up and ignored Danny's calls for her to lie back down. "I'm just trying to help."

"I know you are. But we can't just... push it."

"But it is just so-"

"I know it is Liz. But we can't play matchmaker. Not to them."

"_Why not?"_

Danny took a deep breath and intertwined his hand with hers, trying as if not to show how much dread he had by just saying it.

"What if Annie doesn't like Finnick, Liz?" He finally explained, "Where would he be then?"

* * *

><p>(7 hours before)<p>

"But it's just the Bonfire!" He heard Elizabeth exclaimed. The cleaning of the house now moved from the living room to the kitchen.

"You know that it could never be _just_ the Bonfire." Danny reasoned.

"Danny, for someone who thinks very highly of Finnick, you make it sound like he is a coward."

Danny scratched his head and turned to wash the windows. It wouldn't be good dealing with Elizabeth when she was determined to have him give in. She was having a go for almost three hours now and he was already at his wit's end. For the whale's sake, if he didn't just love this woman...

"I don't want to argue anymore, Liz." He groaned. "This is final. I would not give Finnick the idea to ask Annie out to the Bonfire."

He saw Elizabeth's reflection on the window, quite sullen and angry but nonetheless, it was a look he liked to call "the white flag". She was done.

_I think. _

"Fine." She scoffed. "You just better make sure he's here for later—oh, and you missed a spot over there at the far corner."

Danny shook his head and threw the dirty rag he was holding.

"Alright that's it." He sputtered.

Elizabeth looked at him—mocking. "What?" she shrugged.

Danny climbed back down from the ladder he was using to reach the high windows. He walked towards Elizabeth and crossed his arms.

"I don't know what you want to happen tonight, Elizabeth Fisher. But you have to promise me one thing."

She raised an eyebrow.

"You have to promise me," Danny stepped closer to reach for her arms. "... that you won't meddle."

"I never meddle!"

Danny chuckled and tucked a stray red hair from her face.

"Just promise me. Let it ran its course. He'll get over her."

"And if he doesn't?"

Danny paused for a while before shrugging as if nonchalantly, "We'll think about that later."

(I Walked On)

Finnick deeply smelled the warm soup.

He decided to have a run on the beach after successfully dragging himself off the bed, but also immediately started to run back to his house as soon as he started—and just when he had finished his first lap. It's not that he didn't have the strength to continue, but Annie's sudden reappearance at the shore caught him off guard.

Instead of running back to his starting point, he immediately hid behind two huge rocks, and waited for her to pass. He could not handle an interaction with Annie Cresta at the moment, not after the embarrassment he had at his window pane (even if no one was there that actually saw him all giddy).

She was walking slowly, like before, and seemed to be enjoying the beach and the sand. Finnick was already in dire pain from the rough edges of the rocks that scratched his legs before she was finally out of sight.

The next thing he knew, he was running back to his house, then to his bedroom in a state of panic. He took off his running shoes and headed to fridge and gratified himself with a glass of cold water. What was unexpected though after few mere minutes of gulping the last drop of the water, was the ringing of the doorbell of his front door.

He wouldn't lie that Annie was the first person on his mind. But he wasn't dumb enough to think that she would actually ring his doorbell after everything that had happened. Still, it was a great surprise when he saw Mags, her almost eighty year-old self, standing on his front porch, carrying a bowl of freshly cooked lobster soup.

"Annie made this." She said as her preamble. "She cooked far too many for me so I thought I should bring you some. Especially when I saw you hide behind the boulders, I think you need some sort of comfort."

Finnick rolled his eyes. It didn't help too that as Mags was slowly making her way inside, she was laughing at him.

"You saw that, did you?"

"'Course I did. You lot are the only entertainment I have."

Finnick took the bowl in the dining room where he also found Mags already perching herself in one of the chairs.

"You love that right?" Finnick kidded. "Making fun of me."

"My absolute dream come true."

"Comforting, that one, Mags."

He settled opposite the elderly and rested his head on the table top.

"So why did you hide behind the rocks?" Mags asked.

Finnick looked up to her with a frown, "You're subtlety is like a brick, Mags." But after a while, he added nonetheless. "I got scared."

"Scared?" Mags chuckled.

"Horrified, really."

"Of my granddaughter?"

"Your surprised tone really offends me. You don't know how scary Annie could be?"

Mags gave a hearty laugh. "Then it only means that you've done something dreadful."

"Should it always be my fault?" Finnick retorted.

"Well, you're the only one who can make her feel intense... anger."

"Anger?"

"Anger."

Finnick scratched his head as he sat upright. "So she's still that mad?"

Mags shrugged. "I don't know. Have you given her a reason to be mad?"

"You are not helping, you know."

"Nah, I don't think you need helping." The older woman chuckled once more. "So, what'd you do?" she asked after some time. Finnick rolled his eyes again but took a deep breath and contemplated.

"I was," he started. Finnick thought of the most appropriate, most kid and elderly friendly word but only this came to mind. "A jerk."

Mags nodded. "Not something I haven't heard before."

"Mags..."

She laughed. "You should get out of the house more often Finnick. You're taking everything seriously as if you there's no tomorrow."

"Is there?"

Mags blinked. "Ahh, don't ruin the day, son. The sun is up! It's a perfect day to celebrate."

"I don't particularly feel celebratory, thanks."

"Why don't you start writing again? That always comforted you before."

Finnick could give Mags the benefit of the doubt. But he wasn't fourteen anymore. He wasn't that naive boy. He wasn't the same person.

"And then what?" Finnick asked. "Shove them all back inside my drawer to dust?"

"Most likely."

"That is just unproductive."

"Maybe it is, maybe it isn't."

"Maybe I should also just tie knots until my fingers bleed, don't you think? To practice my patience? That should work well too." Finnick replied sarcastically.

"Then why not? Do whatever it is that would help you. It could only get worse from here on. You of all people should know that in two weeks—"

"I know!" Finnick exclaimed, cutting the older Victor off. They both remained silent for a long time.

"I'm sorry." Finnick finally said, feeling ashamed.

"I'm sorry, too." Mags shook her head. "We always have our bad days."

"Every day is a bad day."

"Oh Finnick..."

"Mags, you know the routine."

"No, I don't." Mags retorted. "You made yourself stuck in this delirious situation of disabling yourself—"

"And you don't?" Finnick exclaimed.

Mags only shook her head again.

"I am... done, Finnick." She looked at him—familiar, warm and comforting. "I've had my chances and you know how much I wasted it.

"We could go on with this all day long, pretending like we haven't before." Mags continued. "But doing these pep talks over and over again won't change anything. And if you wake up tomorrow—even if it's such a beautiful day, even if you almost fell from your window pane just to be able to get a glimpse of my granddaughter—and yet you still feel dead, dying, and dead again, it's simply because _you already are._"

Mags patted his hand. "You made yourself into one."

* * *

><p>(5 Hours Before)<p>

David ran his hand on his dark brown hair for the eighteenth time as he stood outside the still quite unfamiliar door. He didn't have the slightest idea of what he was actually doing there but it was as if his feet brought him automatically at this certain doorstep. Not that he was complaining but he had no clue of why he was still standing there looking exceptionally stupid.

When David was finally, finally decided that he must go before things get worse for him, Willard Cresta came out of nowhere (from the side of the house holding what seemed to be a garden hoe) and spoke directly to him.

"May I help you?" the elderly asked.

"Oh, yes." David scratched his head and turned to greet Annie's father while offering a hand. "Yes, sir. I am David Gray. A friend of Annie's."

Willard looked at him curiously before nodding as if remembering.

"Ahh, David," Willard chuckled slightly before putting down the hoe and removed his soil-stained gloves before shaking his hand. "Yes, I know you. I've talked loads of time to your old man."

"I've heard lots of stories about you too, sir."

"Really? Well, I hope you father didn't tell about—"

"Oh no, not from my father, sir. From Annie."

"Oh." Willard nodded knowingly. David felt a twist in his stomach and he was afraid that he might already be blushing. If he did, Willard didn't seem to notice. "Well still, I do hope there was no embarrassing story about a turtle and a hat."

David chuckled, slightly easing up. "No there was no turtle or hat involved."

"I have to say I am relieved."

There was a short and obvious silent that all David wanted was to get swallowed by the ground. He should've left when he had the chance to.

"So, young David." Willard finally spoke, clearing his throat before doing so. "It was nice to finally meet you."

Willard picked up his hoe and was about to go back perhaps to his gardening when finally, David plucked up the courage to speak. He knew his feet were right in dragging him here. There was something he needed.

"Actually, Mr. Cresta." He started. Willard stopped on his tracks and faced him again. "I need to ask you a favour."

He paused and looked around, as if someone might be eavesdropping during this time of the day (which was impossible given that it was a weekend morning). When he was certain no one was there, David looked back at Willard Cresta with a serious and determined expression dead-set on his handsome face.

"But please don't tell anyone, sir. Not yet at least."

Willard gave him another curious look before replying, "Well, haven't I heard that somewhere before?"

(With Me, My Brother)

Of course Johnny didn't want to feel irritated.

Even though he considered himself quite the ordinary, typical guy, he was not the one to feel all insecure even if his best friend happened to be the most desirable man in the whole of Panem.

For years now, he was okay being on the sidelines—shoved when sudden group of girls wanted to ask for Finnick's autograph (or his shoes, sometimes some piece of clothing, or worse, a strand of his hair), pretend to be a wallflower of some sort whenever the teachers admire Finnick's bravery during the Games, or even act as a look-out whenever Finnick wanted to get away from all his fans.

As far as being a good—excellent—best friend was concerned, he'd earn the Games' rating of 12. But despite these few excess baggage of being Finnick's best friend, he definitely still considered it as another situation altogether when it came to Finnick's private and more personal problems. Though he—Johnny—tried to avoid the entirety of the drama, it was as if a whirlpool was sucking him in every time he tried to get away.

This did not mean that he didn't try to be helpful and understanding. But surely, someone should've noticed the discomfort he was going through. Because if he was honest (in which the total percentage would only accumulate a few minutes of his day), he would confess that being Finnick's best friend was becoming so tiring.

So, so tiring.

Of all the trouble he went through to keep his friendship intact with the victor, he didn't need Finnick's _love_ troubles up on his shoulders as well. He didn't need both guilt and conscience at to be his companion.

For the love of all the dolphins at bay, he—Johnny—was just a few steps away from the streets and many inches far from the Cresta household when it happened. Willard Cresta was kind enough to show him all his fishing tools and masts when after almost two hours of discussion, Johnny decided that it was time to head home.

"So, young lad." Willard said, "I hope you'll bring these pointers with you when you compete in the Bonfire Haul."

It was such a pleasant experience. He even took notes while Willard went on about the difference between a tilt and a trim. The least he could do, as Willard didn't ask for any payment or gift, was to clean up that bit of a mess he did while trying to tie a knot and accidentally toppled Willard's fertilizers. The kind man of course simply chuckled, but he immediately sifted and tried to salvage some of the compost by getting it on his garden.

Johnny was about to finally bid his goodbye to Willard after cleaning up when he had the first clear view of David Gray. Like an instinct, he hid behind one of the large bushes, already envisioning some kind of doom to happen on such a fine day.

And Johnny, he himself considering the fact that he was not the smartest kid in town, was absolutely right.

(Who Else Was There? Saying What?)

David walked around the house, genuinely curious.

"You can sit down." A voice said behind him.

"Oh, thanks." He sat at the comfy looking couch and watched as Willard Cresta crossed the threshold and into the seat opposite him.

"So what do I owe this pleasure, Mr. Gray."

"Just David, sir. Please."

Willard chuckled. "Alright then, David. How can I help you?"

There were a lot of things going on inside a young man's head most especially when his actions and whereabouts at the moment were unplanned. Of all the things a young man must do if he, indeed, was in this kind of situation, was to: first, explain his existence inside this particular house; second, elucidate why his existence decided to show up in this particular house at this particular time; third, explicate thoroughly why his existence suddenly became so nervous whenever he was near (or at this circumstance, _inside_) this particular house during this particular time; and lastly, make clear of his existence's intentions to the daughter of the owner of this particular house where he—the young lad—was currently billeted at this particular time.

_Damn. _

That was a lot to digest, David realized. No one could finish all that, could they?

So not wanting to go through the labyrinth of the proper and the right spiels and introductions, David decided to simply start to where it all mattered.

"This might seem ridiculous to you, sir," David started, "But please hear me out before you, well, say something."

The older man, bless his kind soul, nodded in agreement.

"Sir, Mr. Cresta," he continued. "I actually don't know where to begin or how to actually explain why I found myself in your doorstep, because truthfully sir, I am still at a lost here."

David ran a hand through his dark hair. "This might seem foolhardy or worse, _impossible_ for anyone to understand given that I am young and may possibly be so naive to the world that we live in, but seriously sir, we _know_ the world that we live in. And I am here taking this chance right at this moment to explain, or at least try to explain myself in front of you because I don't know if I would be having another chance at this two weeks from now because life would be unfair by then, and I don't think it would be the best time for you, for Annie, for the both of us, so I am just here. Right now. Being blunt and honest and hopeful—"

"Mr. Gray, perhaps you should just get on—"

"I'm in love with your daughter, sir." David finally blurted after a deep breath. "Very much so."

* * *

><p>So there were a few questions Johnny intended to ask this crazy, stupid world that was also more or less treating him unfairly at the moment: First, why should he be the one to witness David Gray confessing his love for Annie Cresta? Second, why should he be the one to decide whether or not to tell Finnick what he had witnessed? And lastly, why, now that he lifted several brown bags off the Trade Market counter—for the love of all the mermaids in the sea—should he be the one, <em>the only one<em>, buying all the food for tonight?

Hadn't he suffered enough already?

* * *

><p>(2 Hours Before)<p>

"You just better make sure they are all coming." said Elizabeth. "And I feel bad for leaving just Johnny doing all the groceries. Speaking of, where is he? Linda will be here any minute now."

Danny stood up from the stool and scratched his head. "He'll probably be here in a few minutes, too."

"I thought you'd help him."

"My darling, Johnny needs no help. He's a grown-up boy."

"You're a grown-up. You should be a role model."

"I am a role model."

"You don't look like one."

"At least I smell like one."

"_Smell?_"

"Of tuna and snapper." Danny shrugged. "If they want that Bonfire Haul, they better smell like fish."

"And I am marrying you because?" Elizabeth chuckled.

"Because I am about to clean the backyard." Danny kissed her forehead and whistled as he exited through the back door.

Elizabeth shook her head and started preparing the ingredients she and Linda would need for their dishes. They wanted to make it simple but still slightly festive; clam chowder for starters, grilled fish for the main course, and a sweet lemon cake for dessert.

"You two are so right for each other." Someone suddenly expressed.

"Linda!" Elizabeth went pink. "Of course you have to see that."

"What?" Linda laughed as she entered the kitchen. "I think it's sweet."

Elizabeth shook her head, pulling out the necessary cookware and utensils. "But we're supposed to be the grown-ups remember? We're not teenagers anymore."

Linda, after settling her things in one of the stools, immediately started the fire on the stove and hastily tied up her apron. "Since when should you be a teenager to be sweet? I'm a teenager, I'm not sweet."

"Yes you are. Well, not really sweet as you would put it. But you are a romantic!"

"And look at all the good it has done to me." Linda sighed. "Seventeen and haven't even experienced real, good snogging. Of course I wouldn't count that incident with Ralph. We were... age ten that time."

Elizabeth genuinely laughed as she started handing over some of the ingredients. Linda, her blonde hair swaying with the movement, smirked and started to cook. Elizabeth, meanwhile, started chopping some onions. They remained silent for some time and only the clanging and chopping of their utensils, and the occasional singing of Danny in the background, could be heard.

"Linda," Elizabeth started after a while, a huge bowl full of onions right beside her. "Do you believe in fate?"

She had wanted to ask Danny about this but she decided that this might just upset him more. Elizabeth knew she treaded new territories when she brought up Finnick and Annie. But, damn, couldn't they see her point? I mean, somebody besides herself _must know!_

"Fate?" Linda looked up from her stirring.

"Yes, fate. Destiny—two people meant to be together."

"Hmm." The blonde furrowed her eyebrows. "Well, that's a wishful thinking, don't you think?"

From the kitchen where she was standing with Linda, Elizabeth stared at the dining area, just right across from her, where the purple banners and the white balloons were finally—and rightfully—placed. She, of course, didn't outdo herself but merely provided elegance and femininity to the Cross-Fisher household's more masculine _garland_s (what with Danny's shoes and ropes and nets lying all around before her morning cleaning).

"How can you say that it is wishful thinking?" asked Elizabeth, now staring at the fresh bloom of white geraniums and lavender serving as the centrepiece of the dining table.

"Well," Linda shrugged, "Do you really think you could afford that?"

"Hmm?"

Linda stopped stirring and put the stove fires into minimum. "I mean realistically. Could you think about such things?"

Elizabeth snorted. "You do."

Linda pulled a face. "It's a wishful thinking, Lizzie."

"I still don't have a single clue of what you are talking about." The red hair frowned.

Linda rolled her eyes. She took a deep breath and momentarily closed her eyes, as if trying to digest the naivety of the woman who was supposed to be the more mature—and experienced. "Fine. I will try to explain thoroughly."

The blonde cleared her throat and Elizabeth, her finesse all forgotten, pursed her lips.

"Lizzie," Linda started. "You know the feeling when something good or beautiful happens to you?"

She nodded.

"It feels good, and warm, and... comforting, right? It makes us all giddy inside and forget about our juvenile problems. If something good happens, we are like living in the moment. We feel like nothing could go wrong and think that we are invincible. Maybe because probably, in those hours of bliss, we were—we are."

Linda paused and contemplated. "But do you also know that feeling when you wake up the next morning and suddenly realize it's all over? I mean, the good thing that happened was yesterday's event, not the present. And that all you could actually get from it is the thought that it happened? You look back and feel the same warmth and comfort but all the while recognizing that today is never going to be the same? That perhaps today would be the exact opposite?"

"Like there's some kind of... uncertainty?" Elizabeth suggested.

"No, not really uncertainty or doubt even. It's more of that desperation for the bliss to happen again. Yesterday is over but the bits and pieces remain as if glued to your thoughts and you'll carry around forever. Even if you try to forget, it still hangs around in your head."

"Wait," Elizabeth asked. "Why would you want to forget something beautiful that's happened to you?"

Linda shrugged. "Maybe because it's never going to happen again."

"What?"

"Because it's so rare, that's why. And it's just painful to know that once you reached that kind of euphoria or happiness, you'll never be able to go back and surpass it. So you will either try to simply forget or hang into it."

"And this is related to destiny because?"

Linda quirked an eyebrow. "Because Elizabeth Fisher, not everyone in this District could be as lucky as you and Danny. Some of us could only hope for what you guys have. Hence, wishful thinking. It's probably the reason you don't understand."

Linda started stirring the pot again. She also now added the chopped onions. "You have your destiny with Danny, Liz. You didn't even need to hope—all the more _search_—for it."

(We Will Go Together)

"Is that true?"

"What is?"

"That we just... found each other?"

Danny paused for a moment and put down the white recliner he just lifted. He scratched his head and took a huge deep breath. "Liz, what the hell are you talking about?"

For Danny, saying that the backyard was clean seemed to be an understatement because for him, it was impeccable.

The washed-out hardwood floors of the porch had been swept, the ivies were watered, the recliners' repainted, the porch lamps brandishing new bulbs, the weeds in the beach sand's been pulled, and the fire pit's getting ready for the grilling.

Elizabeth was now in the backyard with him. She said that Johnny just arrived with the groceries but had just bickered with Linda for the past ten minutes she couldn't take it anymore.

"Have you had a bad oyster this morning?" he continued. "You've been saying all sorts of stuff these past few hours."

Elizabeth chuckled at him as she neared, helping him with the last recliner.

"Maybe. You don't cook very well."

Danny rolled his eyes. "Really, what's up?"

He watched his fiancé rested against the porch fence and folded her arms.

"I was talking to Linda before Johnny came along. She said some things that might've _perhaps_ cleared a few things."

Danny raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Really?"

Elizabeth nodded.

"And what are those things?"

She shrugged at him. "Fate."

"Fate?"

"Destiny, as some would want to call it."

Danny had to admit Elizabeth could be a bit... dramatic. One of the many interesting things he loved about her. But all the more, it didn't mean it would spare him some headache.

"And? What did she say?"

"That it's a comforting thought, destiny."

Danny nodded.

"You agree?" Elizabeth asked, quite astonished.

He lightly chuckled and laid on one of the recliners, putting his hands behind his head. "I didn't say that."

"So what exactly did you say?"

Danny studied her for a moment. But really what was the use? They'd been 'squabbling' too since this morning. He would test her the same way she'd been testing him the whole day.

"I don't believe in fate, sweetheart." He blurted.

That seemed to take her aback. She frowned at him—curious, angry, _thwarted_? Danny didn't want to know.

"You don't?" she clarified.

Danny chuckled heartily once again. "No, I don't."

"Hmph."

Now it was his turn to frown. There was even a bit of shock, if Danny was to be honest. "Are—are you disappointed?" he stuttered.

Elizabeth looked at him gravely at first, but after a while, she exhaled as if conceding and went to lay in the recliner with him.

"No, I'm confused." She finally explained.

Now he, too, was confused.

"About what exactly?" Danny asked.

It took a fair amount of time before Elizabeth replied. "If you don't believe in fate, then how exactly did this happen?"

"What happened?"

"Us, Danny! You and me! How did we end up like this—together?"

It was a... difficult question, Danny had to admit.

"Did we just happen all of a sudden or was there a few help from nature—or your dad—that _us_ happened?" Elizabeth continued.

Danny reflected on it. There might have been a few memories long forgotten but he certainly was sure his relationship with Elizabeth wasn't any of his father's doing. The old man approved, yes, but he didn't really interfere.

"It was our choice." Danny said simply after a few enlightened thoughts. "We chose to be here, with each other. Unless—" a cold trickle ran through his back.

"Danny!" Elizabeth slapped him once in the arm. "Of course I chose this! With all my heart!"

"Then there you have it!" Danny exclaimed. "It's not fate. It's not some stupid mind games. It's you. It's us, we made this."

He wrapped his arms around Elizabeth. "True, it might not have been my fault that there was a terrible hurricane and you needed some roof to cover yourself from the rain and the nearest establishment was my shop, but it was my choice to let you in. It was your choice to go inside the shack instead of drenching in the rain."

Elizabeth chuckled.

"And it definitely was my choice to smugly ask for your name... and your address, and your schedule that Friday." Danny added and kissed Elizabeth on her forehead.

"And it was my choice—hastily, if I may add—to give them to you."

"Because you chose not to bring your purse that morning. I needed something in return of the favour."

"I didn't know you'd choose to charge me with the beach towels you handed over!"

"I was on shift, love. I needed the business."

"_True love, this relationship_."

"I never once doubted."

Elizabeth sighed and snuggled more closely to him.

"Problem solved?" He asked in between breaths.

Elizabeth pursed her lips but nonetheless looked resolved. Danny wouldn't deny that he felt relieved. Egging on Elizabeth's obsession with Finnick and Annie was driving him insane already. He just wanted to lay there for the rest of the day, actually, and sleep until the dinner. He never knew that cleaning the house could be that tiring.

But alas, d_estiny_ was happened to be cruel because suddenly, there was an angry conversation in the background and it ultimately brought Danny back to reality.

_"You what?"_

_ "Not so loud, Simmons!"_

_ "Johnny, you are so in trouble!"_

_ "You are not helping you know."_

_ "What are you going to do? Will you tell?"_

_ "I don't know, Linda! Can you please just shut up?"_

Beside him, Elizabeth sighed. "I guess I better go back before they burn the house down."

Elizabeth was about to sit up when Danny abruptly stopped her.

"So out of curiosity," he asked, knowing he was treading dangerous territories again. "This has nothing to do with Finnick and Annie?"

Elizabeth, uncannily reminding Danny of himself at the moment, finally stood up from the recliner and chuckled, "I didn't say that."

(What's Wrong With You? With Us?)

It took a long time before it all came clear to Finnick.

What Mags said struck cord. Did he do this to himself? Did he, slowly, destroy his own happiness?

He was back to where he started this morning, on his bed—unmoving, thinking of how Mags could say such things.

And of why the fuck did he feel so affected by it?

Surely this disposition of his wasn't his fault. It wasn't his fault that he got picked for the Hunger Games; it wasn't his fault that he got popular and got dragged into a hideous lifestyle; it wasn't his fault that Annie disliked him so much and he can't even defend himself one bit because he can't tell her the truth.

It wasn't his fault. Entirely.

But, he did, in fact become cowardly at some point (no matter how hard it was to admit that). Then again, who wouldn't be? It was a difficult world out there. So of course, Finnick did what he does best. He ran away and distanced himself before it could get worse.

Despite this reasoning, however, Finnick couldn't deny that there was this small portion inside himself that always tugged on his nerves.

If there was one thing he was certain about, it was the fact that he knew he wasn't built to run and hide. He was born in District Four—the possibilities expanded just like the ocean. The vastness of this District surely kept unsearched opportunities, chances, and _probabilities_.

So Finnick asked himself, now feeling slightly dumb—how could the Capitol matter to him? Especially _now_? Now when he got to wake up in his own home and cook his own breakfast? Now when he can be himself? Now when he knew he could actually do something?

Where else should he start but right here? In District four, with his friends, with his family, with her. He just needed to have that damn courage to finally fight back.

His strength might be enough to kill twenty three other tributes but he knew it was not enough. As much as he wanted to hurt them as brutally as possible, the only way he knew of how to avenge himself was to creep in—stealthily, dangerously and unexpectedly.

And, like the sound of the canons in the arena, a thought occurred to Finnick—he had just the right kind of weapons.

Time was something he could not afford at the moment, as it was something he had no control. So what he did was to write down the things he should be doing so as not to waste mere seconds of his life.

Abruptly, Finnick got up from the bed, took a scratch paper and started to write. Like the way he used to when he was fourteen.

He started to write all the things he was afraid he'll forget one day. Stacks of paper were hidden at the second drawer of the desk where he was now writing his thoughts—memories he wanted to forget, moments he needed to treasure, and people he wanted to remember. He really can't say that he was born sentimental. It was just that a lot was taken away from him already and the papers in his drawer reminded him that he still had a lot to keep. That in some ways, these were the things—thoughts, feelings, _secrets_—they could not take away from him.

And then he started to enumerate:

_24 women in five months._

_24 secrets in five months._

_Strawberry lip gloss was the worst._

_Chivy should at least warn him about the tattoos and claw-like nails of his patrons._

_Despite the delicious food offered to him, he felt vomiting whenever they watch him eat._

_But he definitely liked the coffee of Patron D._

_He didn't get the right amount of sleep as pointed by his stylist._

_The President is truly horrible._

_He was under the impression that District 4 was enduring too much suffering, but he can't believe what was happening in 12._

_This year's Games might be the most expensive yet. He heard about water dams and perilous mountains._

He continued writing and scribbling all the little details his memory could offer him—the way the bed sheets smelled, the screaming crowds, the grandeur of a mansion, the fear of roses...

The list went on and he didn't stop even if his hand was already hurting and that he had perhaps written in three sheets of paper.

As always though, like the truth forever hanging on his head, there was an epiphany that gently and slightly elbowed him in the stomach.

Finnick stopped. He gave an angry and embarrassed sigh.

So this was how his life was going to be, avenged by nothing but stack of papers?

Surely, he thought, this was supposed to be something _much more_, shouldn't it? That these recollections were some kind of redemption—a proof that he wasn't going crazy and that he was not ultimately lost.

Perhaps someday this would just be stories people would forget. Perhaps it could save Panem. Or perhaps these could just become scratch papers, dusting and crumpled inside his drawer. Nonetheless though, it comforted him, just like it used to be. It was an achievement on its own because for the first time in days, Finnick felt lighter.

This was exactly what he needed.

His head was clearer and happier memories were slowly replacing the gruesome ones in his thoughts—because truthfully, there were far greater stories than his life in the Capitol.

There was Danny, Liz and their impending marriage; there was Linda and her quest for true love (Johnny barfed at this when she explained the other day); Mags and her promise of net weaving lessons; Thomas, Stella, Aunt Irvette, and yes, maybe even Uncle Marion; And then of course, there was her. Probably now a bit too friendly with David Gray, but who cares about him anyway? He was _just_ David—David Gray who was also probably in the midst of a terrible hurricane that is Annie Cresta.

Finnick had to smile at the thought. He was so much surrounded by better and greater people that even if everything seems so wrong in his life, he can be so damn happy. Uplifted by this sudden euphoria—without thinking, without even considering to re-read, pace, and contemplate his actions, Finnick folded the pages that contained the pointless parts of his life and threw it inside his compartment.

Starting anew, he wrote the first reason why it was going to get better really soon. Because truthfully, how could he forget?

Today was Annie's birthday. And he only had two hours to find her a gift.

* * *

><p>(1 Hour Before)<p>

_"We have a situation."_

"What? What is it?" Elizabeth asked the two teenagers.

Johnny and Linda looked at each other, perhaps having second thoughts whether to reveal the details to her or not.

"C'mon, guys. Don't make me ask—"

"It's David." Johnny finally spoke, taking a deep breath.

"David? What did he do?"

Johnny and Linda exchanged another knowing looks, as if to answer her question.

Understanding dawned upon Elizabeth and she didn't even feel the need to gasp. Everyone was also expecting _that_ to happen, weren't they?

At that exact moment though, when everything seemed quite lost and ruined, Danny entered the room, shouting perhaps on the top of his lungs (while the promised apron tied around his waist),

"_WHO'S READY TO PARTY?"_

* * *

><p>(I Am Your Dream, Only That, And That Is All)<p>

There are a lot of things a girl could hate in her lifetime. For Annie, one of those would be surprises. She hated them. All the surprises in her life were never really the pleasant ones— as one of which was her mother's untimely death. She really couldn't imagine how she could once more handle surprises after that.

But if she was to look beyond her own grief, her own experience, gone were the days that people actually thought of surprises as _surprises_. Life in District Four had somewhat became so predictable and so expected that the only thing that could shock the people was whenever the lighthouse was forgotten to be turned on at exactly six pm every night. The rest of the so called surprises barely met the expectations in which they were named after, as most of the townsfolk find them quite desperate and staged, especially when it was the summer season.

Which unfortunately for Annie, was the season wherein this next big surprise in her life occured.

Annie had barely even pushed the front door of the Cross-Fisher household open when she was immediately welcomed with a thunderous choir of _"HAPPY BIRTHDAY!"_ And needless to say, she was speechless. Because whenever she was in doubt, her lips seem to decide never to part.

"Happy birthday, Annie!" Linda crossed the room and hugged her fiercely. Then an array of people followed suit; Mags, her father, Elizabeth, Danny, and Johnny.

To her alarm though, the last person in line, just a tad bit taller than Johnny, was the person she least expected—already holding a cup of what seemed to smell (noticeably fragrant as he neared her) of wine.

Instead of hugging her though, like the rest, he merely nodded and shook her hand.

"Happy birthday." Finnick whispered.

"Thank you." Annie finally was able to speak, quickly letting go of his hand. Then she turned to the rest and smiled. "Thanks to everyone!"

As Annie looked around the house, she felt the tiniest change in her disposition. She was embarrassed—embarrassed for even thinking of the entire thing as foolish.

The house was decorated with white and purple balloons and there was a huge banner with her name on it hanging on the wall. The house also smelled warm and homey thanks to the fresh flowers and the supper, Annie knew, was cooked perfectly by Elizabeth and Linda.

"You have to know, Annie." Danny spoke as they settle themselves in the dining room. "I spent a good amount of four hours cleaning the house for you." Elizabeth jokingly smacked him on the shoulder.

"Well that is highly appreciated, thank you."

"And of course the cooking was made by Linda and Liz." her father added, finding himself a sear in the dining room where, to no surprise, was overwhelming with food.

"I have to say," said Linda, who sat right beside her. "Johnny personally picked the clams."

Johnny blushed. "Yeah, well. It's your birthday, Annie. Only the best!"

Annie laughed. "Really, to all of you, this is amazing. I don't know what to say."

"Say you love my chowder!"

"I know I will love your chowder, Linds."

Linda clapped her hand and started to serve the hot soup. "Now, everyone gather your bowls around."

"You know, Johnny," Willard spoke again, "They count the clams in the Haul."

Everything seemed to stop. Annie looked at her father and there was a twinkle in his eyes. What did he mean by that? The next thing she knew, everyone was talking rapidly—even Finnick.

"The Haul? Are you joining the Bonfire Haul? When are you planning to tell me? I'm your best friend!"

"Seriously, Pearson? Good luck with that!"

"Why didn't you ask for my help? Whale's sake I won the Haul!"

"I think that is very good for you, Johnny. Well done!"

"The Haul? You are joining the Haul?"

Johnny flushed pink as he answered the questions thrown at him, but Annie noticed that he was looking at her father, obviously asking for help. But Willard, on the other hand, seemed to be enjoying the fuss and heartily chuckled.

As Annie helped herself with the clam chowder—and stopping herself choking from laughter—she looked around the room, admiring the sudden elation and warmth. She could used to this kind of squabbling every single day; Johnny still flushing pink and pleading with her father, Linda eyebrows raised in amusement with this sudden revelation, Danny and Elizabeth already egging on the prizes Johnny can win, Mags joking about girls clamouring after him, Finnick finally clapping his best friend's shoulder in support...

Sure, she wasn't entirely surprised by this dinner. But Annie had to admit that she was touched by the effort. Who knew that there were people besides her father who were all willing to go the extra mile and prepare this night for her despite the uncertainties of the next few days.

Then again, as Annie put her spoon down, the uncertainties themselves were enough reason to celebrate. And that maybe perhaps, now that she thought about it, this party might not even be for her birthday.

But not that she was complaining.

* * *

><p>He was glad he came.<p>

Finnick admitted having to have second thoughts attending the party tonight, but Danny was on his doorstep the moment he was about to change his mind.

"It'll be fun, Fin." Danny said then. And he was right.

True, Finnick was thousand times nervous knowing that this would be a face-to-face encounter with Annie, but he also realized though that this was actually what he needed for the longest time now.

A closure.

A motivation.

A friend.

"Okay, Annie." Linda suddenly said as she was gathering everyone's plate after the fillet was gone. "We have another surprise for you actually."

Annie rolled her eyes that earned a couple of chuckles from everyone.

"But please step out of the room first." The blonde continued.

"What?" Annie groaned. "Look, it's fine if I see it already."

"No! Of course it's not." Linda argued. "Please!"

Finnick felt a kick from underneath the table. Only one person could dare.

He looked at Johnny and he was eyeing him and then glanced back towards Annie. Finnick didn't initially get it but when Johnny mouthed, _Take her away_, Finnick then, too, rolled his eyes and resisted his own laugh. He was just about to give in when Elizabeth did the honors instead.

"Why don't you accompany Annie in the backyard? Danny's done a tremendous job making sure it's lovely." she suggested. Behind her, Finnick could see Danny rolling his eyes and mouthing, _Ignore her_.

But Finnick could only chuckle. Why not? He shrugged and nodded, pretending not to see the astonishment in Annie's and even Danny's eyes.

"Good! Take her away please!" Linda hurriedly said as she went back into the kitchen.

"Danny cleaned the house?" Finnick tried to joke. "Could be interesting."

Danny snorted and impatiently waved a hand in surrender.

Finally, ignoring the jitters he was feeling in the pit of his stomach, Finnick nodded his head and invited Annie out. Slowly, like she was hesitating, she stood up and grabbed her cup.

He was fairly aware of the stares the rest of the people in the room. Mags was eyeing him thoughtfully, Elizabeth seemed flushed-pink for whatever reasons, and Danny, Danny the elderly brother Danny, was giving him that encouraging and manly wink.

Really?

It was just the backyard.

They were quiet when they reached the back porch and into the nightly sea breeze of the District. The sound of the waves was a hearty welcome and covered up for that horrible silence Finnick would want to ignore.

Annie leaned onto the fence, still her wine cup in hand, and stared into the darkened beach. Her hair was swaying slightly to the breeze and Finnick had never seen her so serene. Tired-looking, but peaceful.

"Are you going to apologize?" she asked so suddenly.

Finnick jolted. "Excuse me?"

Annie chuckled and turned to him. "I was kidding."

Now he didn't know what was so funny about that, especially when he was still very much aware of their heated conversation a few days back.

"I was just trying to lessen the awkwardness." She continued.

When he didn't reply immediately, Annie murmured again, "Never mind that, Fin."

But he couldn't. There was this feeling bubbling up again and he knew that it would continue to resurface not unless he did something about it. In which he knew he can.

He started to where it all mattered. Running a hand through his hair, preambles aside, Finnick exhaled. "I'm sorry. Really, I am."

Annie frowned, but there was a smile already forming on her lips. "I just told you to forget about it but if you wish, then go on. You are apologizing because?"

Now this was becoming funny. She was definitely challenging him. There was the quirk in her eyes and the familiar purse of her lips that told Finnick she was enjoying this.

He smiled. "For what I did."

"Which was what?" Now she, too, was grinning.

Finnick leaned on the fence beside her and shook his head.

"For being a jerk the other day. I shouldn't have lost my temper."

Annie was thoughtful and silent for a moment before she whispered and nodded her head, "That's okay." She looked farther in the shore and tugged a stray hair behind her ear. "You know, I'm sorry too."

He looked at her, and Finnick was thankful that slowly, she turned her head to look at him as well. It was practically a sin for him to admit, but for a while this day, he had forgotten how good-looking she truly was. Sure he knew she was beautiful, but he was unprepared for _this_ moment. It was as if his sight just automatically zoomed in on her and even the tiniest of freckles seem to just become so clear and so stunning.

It surprised him at how easily she just took his breath-away.

For the first time in weeks, they finally seem to get a hold of themselves.

Or at least, he did.

"Annie," Finnick whispered. "Truly, I am sorry."

She smiled.

"I told you to just forget about it." She took a sip in her cup. "But if comforts you, then yes, apology accepted."

"I'll tell you that's a relief."

"Good. Finnick Odair does have a conscience."

He laughed and shook his head. "You have to know, I wake up early in the morning too. I'm not as lazy as you think I am."

Annie faked a shock. "Really? That is astounding information. I should tell the girls at the docks so they could compete in preparing breakfast for you."

"That you must. But truly, Liz's cooking or Linda's would actually suffice, so I'd appreciate it if you advice them first."

Annie laughed. "But seriously though," she asked after a while, seemingly bothered with that information. "You wake up early?"

Finnick chuckled back. "I do! Is it that hard to believe?"

"Well, no. But you are Finnick! You don't need to wake up early. Most of the people here wake up early because they need to work."

"That's true." He agreed. "But that's not the only reason to wake up every morning, isn't it?"

Annie paused, slightly looking surprised.

"Hm. Touché." She finally answered as Finnick gave her a smile. "So what's your reason getting up so early then?"

It was so simple he didn't even need to think. It just happened this morning, didn't it?

"The sunrise." He said simply, wishing Linda would take her time preparing Annie's birthday cake as finally,_ finally_, they were getting somewhere...

"The sunrise?" she asked.

"Yeah, the sunrise. It makes me... I don't know, feel something." Finnick answered. "Why, don't you like the sunrise?"

Annie shook her head. "No, I mean, I do love the sunrise. It's a beautiful sight."

"But it's not really just about that, isn't it?" Finnick asked. "The sunrise can be, I don't know... so much more?"

Annie remained silent and Finnick took this as a sign to go on.

"I mean, the sunrise is a sight, you're right. But wouldn't it even be more fascinating to be a part of it? Not to just simply _see_ it, but to actually be _there_—to be the one who unravels it every morning?"

"What do you mean?"

"That you, Annie Cresta, are the phenomenon that can make the sunrise. I, _also_ make the sunrise. We are the ones who witness how it moves and shifts and changes. You and me, we are the in-betweens. We are the portion of the sunrise where it is at its most breathtaking; we are in that moment when the blue touches the yellow, or when the orange mixes with the gray, or when the pink combines with the violet... We—the both of us who discovers this—make it the most wonderful sight. Without us, the sunrise would just be another underappreciated performance."

Finnick turned to look at Annie. She was staring at him as if it was the first time she'd seen him. She was frowning slightly, curious perhaps, but with a tinge of a soft smile. Her eyes were glassy but not distant, and there was also this tint of red on her cheeks that even without the help of alcohol, made Finnick all giddy.

"What?" he asked suddenly, slightly embarrassed.

She smiled at him, like there was some she knew and he didn't. "Nothing."

"You, Annie Cresta, are weird."

She laughed at this and took a sip in her own cup.

"You, Finnick Odair, are interesting."

* * *

><p>David reached the Cross-Fisher house billed in far end of the West Villages, a couple of blocks away from his own home. He could hear the strong waves crashing to the shore and the slight rush of wind urged him to tuck his sweater tighter.<p>

It wasn't so bad, he thought, his visit to Willard.

It's true that the old man seemed taken aback with his revelation but he was nonetheless, understanding. David just wanted to explain himself because there was no time to lose anymore.

And he was sure. Of course he loves her.

Well, he didn't know if it was love, surely, but if it wasn't, then what was it exactly? All he knew was that it was definitely something he couldn't avoid. All he thought about was her.

Her. Her. Her.

He _tried_ to avoid thinking about Annie, for his own sake. But it was as if the world wanted him to never forget anything that was about her—it was torture. Though it was a good kind of torture, he assured himself.

And tonight, as planned, everything would change.

David was about to go up to the front porch and ring the doorbell when he heard noises coming from the back portion of the house. Tugging his sweater and holding the bouquet of flowers in his hand tighter, he decided to check out the house from the shore as probably, all of them would be there already celebrating.

As he made his way in the small alley, he could already picture people animatedly talking in the backyard. He pushed away several branches of the bushes, wanting to immediately greet whoever they were.

Turning in the corner, David stopped abruptly.

Surely, one of them was Annie. But who was—Finnick? David was utterly surprised. He stood still and contemplated the scenario before him.

Quietly, he sneaked towards the heavy bushes and hid, parting the branches slightly to get a glimpse of the two.

"How long has it been?" David heard Finnick asked.

"Almost ten years now." Annie replied.

He saw Finnick nod before replying back. "Do you miss her?"

Annie was looking thoughtful. She momentarily stared at the white cup she was holding before replying.

"Every single day." Then after a while, Annie put a hand on Finnick's shoulder and murmured. "I know you miss them too."

He saw Finnick smiled sheepishly and didn't say a word. Finnick just stared on the ground and ruffled his hair as if he was constraining himself.

"And I think that is okay." Annie continued, smiling herself. "Us, missing them."

Finnick finally looked up to her as she went on.

"I mean, that's the only thing we could do right? To look back and remember?"

Finnick didn't reply, but he shrugged nonetheless.

In the silence, David could not think of any reason why they should be there on their own. It was impossible not unless—

"Annie," Finnick started, disrupting David from his thoughts. He took another glance at Annie before continuing. "Do you really hate me?"

David could see Annie was surprised with his question. Everyone knew how much she loathed him. Annie was probably the only person who didn't rejoice when he got out of the Games safely.

Finnick seemed to let her take her time answering his question.

"I don't hate you." Annie finally answered.

"You don't?"

She chuckled. "Surprisingly, I don't. Not really."

"Hm."

"What?"

"Nothing. I just... nah, forget about it." Finnick waved a hand then drank from his cup.

Annie placed a hand on her hips, frowning. "No, tell me."

Finnick seemed to observe her. Sighing, he conceded. "It's just that... I was worried you did. And I didn't think I could handle that idea of you hating me."

Annie chuckled. "Why not? You're Finnick Odair. You could deal with a lot of things."

"But not that." he explained. "You're Annie—I knew you since I was seven years old, and if you hate me, then I'm not so sure anymore."

"Sure of what?"

"All of it."

"Fin..."

"You're the only one who holds true to my previous life, Annie, before I won the Games. And if you're not there... then it's all gone—"

David couldn't take it anymore. Why did he suddenly feel like he was an intruder—like it was something so private he felt ashamed being there hearing it?

Why? It was supposed to be _his night_. It was supposed to be him from now on. It was supposed to be him, David, beside Annie on that porch and not Finnick Odair.

As he sneaked another look, he realized that the answer had been over his head since they were fifteen years old. What frustrated him the most , like in the story books he had read, was this bond seemingly made just for Finnick and Annie.

Like a secret.

For the first time in weeks, it was back—that same hint of fear David experienced every time Finnick was home from the Capitol. No, he couldn't deny it anymore. It was already in the out, hovering itself in his face like a boat mast.

Finnick was also in love with her.

* * *

><p>"Finnick, don't say that." Annie whispered.<p>

"But I do. I fear that all the time."

Annie smiled gently. "Then from now on, you don't have to."

Finnick laughed lightly. "Well, thanks for that I guess."

He knew he was taking a huge leap of faith by doing this, but slowly, he reached for Annie's hand and gripped it.

"Really, Ann. Thank you."

Annie seemed to freeze as he did so, but it delighted Finnick to see at how easily she relaxed. But knowing he was pushing his luck for so long already, he regretfully let go.

"I, um, have something for you." Finnick said nonetheless, running a hand through his hair and not breaking their rapport.

"You shouldn't—" Annie replied, blushing slightly.

"I wanted to. I mean, it's not every day that you turn eighteen."

"That I have to agree." She chuckled.

"Here." Taking the object from his sweater's inside pocket, Finnick handed her a squared shape object wrapped neatly in a blue paper.

"Save me the embarrassment will you?" he added. "Just open it later, when I'm not here anymore, I guess."

Giving him a warm smile, Annie whispered, "Thank you, Finnick."

Somewhere in the background they could hear Linda shouting that the next surprise was ready and Annie should go in already.

"We should go."

Finnick nodded.

He watched as she slowly backed away, still with a small smile on her lips and with his gift safe in her hand. There was this urgency he felt the moment she was almost about to open the door. It already creaked slightly, and despite the thousand reasons he needed to think about—like David, like Mags, like the candles Annie needed to already blow out, or maybe even the likes of Corolianus Snow who was just waiting for the next moment he would fail—Finnick just knew that it was a perfect moment. He didn't exactly know when this could happen again.

So before Annie could even step inside Danny and Liz's house, he did the one thing he knew was right.

"Annie,"

She turned around and faced him again, one eyebrow slightly raised asking him in return.

Then without any hesitations, he continued. "Will you go to the Bonfire with me?"

* * *

><p>Annie was not so sure if she heard Finnick correctly. But he was just there, with a smile on his face, waiting for her to respond. And in a situation that should had been a short five seconds, somewhere from the first tick to the four point fifty-nine second, it was as if someone put a joke on her and slowed time down to become an eternity.<p>

* * *

><p>David looked up instantly as he heard Finnick. And as if he was the one who asked, he felt himself go cold because of the anticipation of what could happen next.<p>

He had never felt so greedy and selfish.

Finnick Odair could not have her.

* * *

><p>It took Annie forever.<p>

Finnick felt like it was his slow and painful death. But there was no turning back now. He would wait no matter how long it would take her—just like how slowly he was discovering her all these years.

* * *

><p>Everything seemed ironically like a blur.<p>

He was so right and so real—like what he used to be when they were seven years old, when he had a front tooth missing and a scruffy haircut that she, Annie, secretly liked.

* * *

><p>David knew he could do something.<p>

He knew that if he presented himself to the two of them, if he could move his feet and step into the walkway and reveal himself from the bushes, the trance would break.

He could be the one to end this. He could be the one to end this agony.

* * *

><p>Finnick watched, not even realizing he was holding his breath, at how she fidgeted—tucking a stray hair behind her ear, pursing her lips, blinking too many times than normal... Any second now.<p>

* * *

><p>After everything that had happened, after all the troubles and the judgements—her judgements included—<em>he was still the same Finnick after all<em>.

* * *

><p>David had just one chance of doing it, of breaking that spell. He had to do it <em>now<em>.

* * *

><p><em>Five...<em>

* * *

><p>So even if it did sound foreign when Annie thought about it after a while,<p>

* * *

><p>David stepped one foot forward and shoved the branches of the bushes.<p>

* * *

><p><em>Four...<em>

* * *

><p>She definitely knew no other way of answering it.<p>

* * *

><p>He moved another foot, the porch lights now slightly illuminating him.<p>

* * *

><p><em>Three...<em>

* * *

><p>Annie finally parted her lips.<p>

* * *

><p>Finnick took a deep breath.<p>

* * *

><p><em>Two... <em>

* * *

><p>David cleared his throat.<p>

* * *

><p><em>One... <em>

* * *

><p>"Yes. I would love to."<p>

* * *

><p><em>AN: OH THANK YOU FOR YOUR PATIENCE! I know I took a while to update but really had a busy schedule this past ten months. Hopefully, it won't take me long to update again. Reviews are LOVE! :)<em>


	6. I Crave Your Eyes, Your Mouth, Your Hair

**Recap: **Linda, together with Johnny, Elizabeth, Danny and Finnick decided to hold a celebration for Annie's eighteenth birthday. Taking himself out of his miseries, Finnick also took his chance in asking Annie out for the Bonfire Haul. But not the ones to be bested, Johnny and David had surprises of their own when David struck up the courage to admit to Willard Cresta of his feelings for his daughter, all the while Johnny was hiding behind the Cresta's garden. At the night of the party, Willard revealed that Johnny intended to join the Haul, to everyone's astonishment.

**Chapter 6:**

_I Crave Your Eyes, Your Mouth, Your Hair_

(I Shivered in Those Solitude)

One can assume that people living near the shores were the ones most lucky. That instead of concrete and metal, District Four remained to be one of the areas in Panem not to be cluttered by tall and dreary government buildings. Though true that the town square billeted the Mayor's white stone house, its surrounding areas were extraordinarily made out of wood that were all washed out because of the heavy brine. Not to say that the District was ugly, but instead, District Four did posses a lot of character.

It started its day usually to the sounds of the gulls perched on the rocky basements on the far end of the West Beach, then to the warm sunshine coming from the East; then soon after, to the distant flapping of boat masts already preparing for hauls and fishes and nets.

These early morning preambles should have been familiar and welcoming and quite the contrast to the unknown waking hours of the other Districts farthest from Four where, perhaps, there was the constant sound of bombs blowing off for coals or of the dreadful cries of hungry children living on murky streets...

But despite this privilege of living in District Four, Johnny Pearson felt as if the West Beach coming to the sounds of life expediently came about to purposefully unnerve him. Because even if the sun was about to rise from its slumber and the shore was already wide awake and excited—with people chatting animatedly while sitting atop huge boulders or lying on the beach sand—Johnny realized that this was it, thinking he had bitten more than he can chew.

_The moment of truth_, he thought.

Taking a deep breath and finally slinging his rucksack on his shoulder, Johnny stared at the long stretch of the West Beach in front of him before continuing his journey towards _Brueler's Dock_ and await his fate there.

* * *

><p>(Laugh at the Night, at the Day, at the Moon)<p>

Mostly everyone in the District had a reason to celebrate this particular day.

For Annie though, this day just marked another momentous—and speedily nearing—event headed their way. Despite her father's attempts and persuasion for her to simply ignore the annoyance, she just couldn't let it go.

"Why not think of Johnny?" shouted Willard from the living room downstairs. "Go out and wish him good luck."

Annie didn't respond and continued to stare at the continuous flow of people down the streets from her bedroom window. She just tugged the shawl she had wrapped around herself and thought that she never really said she wouldn't entirely consider attending. She knew all her friends would be there cheering on their respective boaters and she knew that she had to be there for Johnny, at least.

"It may not be as bad as you always think, sweetheart. You've survived the past 17 years." Willard continued. "What's another year?"

Annie didn't have the heart to contradict her father that she decided to not respond. Truly, it was what comes after the Haul that they should all be worried about, wasn't? In that idea of what will become of their District in the next coming days? The deserted streets, the children lining up in the Government school, and ironically, the few proud parents who purposely stroll in the town square just to brag about their kids' _talents_?

After a playful 'Suit yourself', and probably knowing he won't be able to budge her anyways, Annie heard her father rummage through the rest of his fishing equipment before finally exiting the house, catching his graying hair among the village folks on the street.

What were they all so excited about, anyway? There was nothing much to expect. It was always the same every year. The young men gather at the West Beach at dawn and then battle the vast sea for its abundant fish and whatnot. At the end of the day, it was not about the boat with the most haul that wins. It was all about their inflated male egos after the contest, trying to charm pretty little ladies with a drink or two during the Bonfire.

_Ahh_.

The Bonfire, of course.

Last week's events still haunted, more or less _bothered_, Annie up until now. She still couldn't believe what had happened on the night of her birthday.

There she was, not expecting anything at all since she was just eighteen and eighteen meant nothing, but then there were her friends—Linda, Johnny, Danny, Lizzie—who went to all troubles just to fix something up for her because damn, it was her birthday and they had to celebrate it. Then there was also Finnick, of course, who, for reasons unknown, asked her out to the Bonfire. She couldn't really blame the cup of wine she was holding at that time but she remembered how surprised and surreal it felt when she got back home and thought about that certain encounter; how easy, although not swiftly, was she able to say 'yes' to him as if it wasn't just weeks ago that they had exchanged heated words—she, accusing him of being a playboy of some sort, promising herself that she would never ever be friends with him again, and him, taunting her of being a prude.

Shaking her head in disbelief, Annie drifted her gaze back to the heavy street of the District. The people were dressed in probably one of their best outfits—girls in pretty dresses and colorful scarves, some men in snugly shirts and freshly pressed cargos. True, it could have been such a festivity if it weren't for the District guards who were wearing their plain white uniforms emblazoned with their thick leather belts, housing probably the worst weapons they had. Such big gatherings like the Bonfire Haul needed all the more security. The guards' presence just made things worse for Annie. How can the people celebrate if there were these guards ready to strike them at any moment, without mercy? As if reminding them that they weren't really at all free and that this day was just that one short reminder of the freedom they had lost in the Last War? The lost freedom they had to pay for all over again?

Like she said, and had thought about countless of times before, the Bonfire Haul was a mask—a disguise for all the terrible things that was about to happen in Panem. Of course Annie barely had the idea on how the other Districts prepare for the Games, but nonetheless, it was the same year after year. Twenty-three young people we're still going to die. There was no way out of that truth—even if you are that one young Victor, standing in front of a charming little house, wearing a gray linen shirt, and waving up at the lonesome girl viewing the streets from the second floor window.

Finnick Odair wasn't as free as everyone else might have thought in this District.

Laughing, he waved up at Annie and then ruffled his bronze hair. Annie couldn't help letting out a small laugh. It was weird seeing him on their street once again after all these years. He didn't exactly look out of place but he didn't look like he belonged there either. So what was he doing there? But then quite suddenly, a chilling thought occurred to her—_of course_ he had to be there.

Because, as Annie finally started to realize, like it was just yesterday when Finnick's mother would reprimand him for always messing up his hair (Annie could still seem to hear the distant voice of Natalia Odair, hovering in the air like the softest melodies and then Finnick's boyish smirks just right after) or when Finnick and Dylan made all those loud noises (their footsteps on the wooden porch, the scrunching of the sand when they were in their backyard, then their silent breathings in the afternoon when they listen to their father, Frank, rave about his fishing techniques and haul that morning). And more importantly, as Annie gazed back to the still waiting and frowning Finnick, it actually felt like it was just yesterday that _that _certain victor had asked her out. And bless the seas, it was going to happen today—and about time that it finally sunk in.

She was going to spend the Bonfire Haul with him.

With him.

With _Finnick_.

It wasn't the hardest decision Annie had to make in her lifetime but she sure felt wobbly knowing that today was to be spent with Finnick Odair. Four years of repressed friendship and here they were, starting all over again.

Annie barely had a second to rethink that _impossible_ thought when Finnick, who was still downstairs and waiting for her to respond, suddenly started making funny faces that brought a couple of smirks from the onlookers and teasing her, probably, of what she would be missing out from the Bonfire if she didn't join him. Finnick motioned for her to go down already and mouthed '_Come on'_—Annie wasn't sure, really, but what else was there for him to say? And what else was there for her to do? She can't run away from this, can she? And not that she wanted to.

The crowd was already curiously looking at Finnick but nonetheless went on their way laughing; there was probably another time to ogle at the handsome victor, and probably, the Bonfire Haul was so much greater than him at the moment.

Sighing, and not being able to help a small smile, Annie decided—pretending like she hadn't for the last few days—and comforted herself in the thought that she was doing this because Finnick was making too much of a fool of himself already (with the kids playing along with him) as he pretended to do swim laps in the air, faked drowning, gesturing for Annie to come rescue him...

After a few laughs, admittedly it was easy, Annie found herself climbing down the rickety staircase in a hurry (in which she might probably never admit) and straightened her skirt in the process. She hesitated at first (she convinced herself of this but of course she actually didn't hesitate, not even for a single second), but then eventually pulled the door open.

"And we're saved kids." Finnick announced with a grin. He bowed down to the spectators as the children laughed and gave him a humble applause.

Then of course he was Finnick, and Finnick was impatient and excited and lovely and good. Maybe it was because of the crowded street or maybe because he just felt it necessary—easy and comfortable—that without any more preambles, without even considering the onlookers, without even considering her say on the matter, he took her hand—so carelessly, so confidently—and led the way.

In the fogginess of her mind, Annie wasn't really sure where this date was heading or if she was even able to lock the door. But as Finnick clasped her hand more tightly, she knew, any which way, there was no getting out of it.

* * *

><p>A huge thunderstorm wouldn't even be able to ruin today's events—or so the notice on the town square said—as evidently, the annual Bonfire Haul will push-through despite a storm warning. Finnick thought of how could a storm be even possible on a day like this? Not when the sun shone so brightly and what with the wind carrying that fine and familiar tune of busy people on the docks—chatting, laughing—not caring about anything at all except for the festival.<p>

_So what storm, exactly?_

Sure, he knew he did look foolish, perhaps, the moment he woke up; brushing his teeth quickly, throwing freshly laundered clothes on himself and then unabashedly went on his way to the West Village, _whistling_, to his great surprise. He bumped into Willard Cresta at the town square and had a short chit-chat with him, expecting to see Annie in his tow. When he didn't though, cutting his conversation with Willard short, he immediately proceeded to the West Village where, as Willard put it, she was there sulking.

Not anymore, Finnick hoped.

He was still grasping Annie's hand despite the crowd at the town square who, bless the seas, seemed to be overly invested with the booths and the entirety of the fair that none of them seemed to notice their intertwined fingers. Although it didn't come unnoticed to him that Annie hadn't even attempted to pull her hand yet...

"What are we going to do today?" she asked quietly, her hand in his ever so twitching slightly.

"What do you want to do?" Finnick replied, still denying her of the freedom.

"Aren't we supposed to head to the beach to support Johnny? I mean, that's what the festival is all about, you know."

"What? About Johnny?" Finnick chuckled. "I don't think so."

"_Finnick_." She rolled her eyes. "I meant the Haul."

Then there goes his senses. And heavens, he was expecting for that to happen a couple of times today—for her to render him speechless, for him to look like a fool. She was raising an eyebrow and he felt the need to laugh and respond once more. He stopped himself though, thinking that Annie wouldn't like being laughed at. Regardless, he couldn't even remember what he was about to reply. Finnick bit his tongue instead, like some sort of a reminder as well that he wasn't at all dreaming; that the hand he was holding was still Annie's. Who knew it could just be that easy? Who knew she was also just possibly waiting for him the same way he was just waiting for her all these years?

_What a feeling_. So this was how it felt to be in control. It was like a breath of fresh air; like that first and intense inhale after minutes of being under water. Finnick felt fantastic. He felt like a child, he felt so, so alive. He didn't care if the crowd would talk (as they eventually would); he didn't even bother to walk up and explain himself to David Gray, who, he assumed, was horribly angry with him at the moment because he was suddenly so honest, so blunt, so out there for Annie—proving finally that even his—David's—supposed fondness for her couldn't deter how he, Finnick, was now obviously on a winning streak.

_What a fucking feeling_.

So even if he was still trying to keep himself from chuckling at her _ridiculous_ stare, Finnick couldn't all the more care that deep within his thoughts, somewhere his consciousness could not reach at this moment of delight, there were still a lot of things to be discussed, and in some terms, a lot of things to keep mum about. He had blissfully forgotten to care—to be cautious, to be subtle, to be inconspicuous. But later probably, when his euphoria had died down, he could—and he would—wake up to one morning regretting that today ever happened. However, at this moment, he didn't want to know and feel it. And for as long as his consciousness allowed him, his fears wouldn't be of case.

"Fine." He finally surrendered, exhaling deeply as if in disappointment—but of course he wasn't and never could be when it came to her. "We can head-out to the beach if you like. But on one condition, though."

She looked at him sternly again, albeit wondering. "Okay?"

"Do you trust me?"

She smiled, hesitant at first he noticed. But again, no matter...

"Yes, I trust you."

(Alone Under the Ground)

'Odd' possibly wasn't the worst word David could think of when he saw them at the town square. He was with his dad going through the crowd and into the docks when Finnick and Annie's appearance slightly caught him off-guard. A solid hit, truly. There immediately was the surge of jealousy in his chest but he tried to keep a calm composure. He wasn't going to lose it amidst the crowd of happy faces—including theirs—and most definitely not in front of his father. David knew for a fact too that Finnick saw him. The bastard even politely nodded all the while Annie was busy looking around the cheerfulness of the square. And just like how they appeared out of nowhere, completely alarming him, they also quickly disappeared into the crowd.

David didn't want to stoop down and give an extra effort to actually locate them. He was tempted to but he knew it was not worth it. He was confident enough to think that Annie wouldn't fall for the antics the _Great Odair_ had saved for all the girls to swoon at, even if he couldn't deny the fact that if it wasn't for their childhood history, so to speak, he knew he could freely enjoy the festival as much as the rest were.

That was where one of his problems laid. There was a time in Annie Cresta's life that Finnick bared witness to and in which he—David—did not. Sure, all three of them lived in the West Village before Finnick's win, but the fact remains to him that Finnick and Annie were neighbours; that the Odairs and the Crestas were famously good friends and that the Grays was a quiet and simple family, far away from the social circles of the District. It wasn't until they started school when things started to turn around for him. He was finally being noticed—for his manners, his politeness, and yes, as most often said, his good looks. Despite this opportunity to meet people in school, David never really found that connection to anyone the way Finnick and Johnny had become best friends or what with Annie and Linda's closeness. He had a couple of buddies he once shared a laugh with but he never had the confidence to say he was able to share himself to them fully. During those times too, he still didn't see Annie _that way_. He was way too young to even bother. But as they grew up, slowly, people were becoming more observant the way he was also becoming more aware of his surroundings. He heard rumors, admiration, praises. Soon, he was being billed as the 'mysterious one' in contrast to Finnick's more outgoing persona. Even in the tender age of eleven, everyone was already making up stories of rifts between him and Finnick which were all untrue, of course.

_Except the one now._

They were last seen heading towards the lighthouse, he heard someone say as he neared the beach—Danny or Johnny, he didn't know anymore. It was just unfair that Finnick was with Annie right now knowing that he had asked her first. School also seemed like a long time ago and it would soon seem like another lifetime once the Games starts in the next few weeks. Their fates will once again be in shambles and he didn't know when he'll be able to be with her.

His next quest though, David thought as he positioned himself on one of the huge boulders when he finally reached the beach, was to explain himself to Willard. It was embarrassing, every time he remembers what he had done, what he had confessed to the old man a few days back. It was even more embarrassing that he didn't show up at Annie's birthday that Willard had asked him about it, concerned.

"She was waiting for you, you know." Willard said the day after the party, during their early morning hauls. "...couldn't believe you have forgotten."

Of course he didn't forget. How could he forget? He already had flowers with him; he was on the Cross's backyard ready to plunge into a house party with guests he barely knew except for Annie. He was there. He was there but felt like he shouldn't be. Not after what he saw at the back porch, not after hearing Finnick and Annie's conversation that always drove him mad.

_He was there but he choked._

It was a chilling thought that haunted him up until this morning. He could have stopped it too, he knew. But he was cowardly and was so damn affected he chickened out. It was a hard blow to his stomach and for a while there, during that night, as he hid behind the bushes, he didn't know if he could recover. So silently, after Finnick and Annie went back inside the house, he left. He left with all the dignity he could muster. He won't be rejected. No. Not like that.

So David wanted to let it pass. Give that round to the Great Odair. But seeing them again today, holding hands, was another low punch he had to take. And truthfully, he didn't know if he could take one more. Because between him and Finnick, he knew he had the upper hand for the longest time and he couldn't quite believe he let it all slip away between his fingers. He had the upper hand because he was the one who didn't need to leave District Four unlike Finnick who had Capitol responsibilities that took too much of his time. He also didn't need to prove his loyalty either because Annie was the only girl he ever had interest in—unlike _some_ who had the whole country at the palm of their hands; girls baring their souls out, old women ogling, teenagers wanting to get a glimpse... Finnick can betray her. But David wouldn't. He cannot fathom doing it. But again despite this advantage, David knew there was still the saddest part about this whole debacle aside from him choking.

Because despite everything else, despite probably all his efforts, there was always this thought of Annie _possibly_ not liking him back; possibly, she wasn't into him the way that he was so into her; because if she was, if there wasn't that slightest hesitation, she should be holding his hand and not Finnick's. She should have said yes to him when he asked her on that fateful day at the Government School. _She should have said yes_. But like an afternoon shadow that cast behind him, like the truth that forever haloed above his head, like it was the silliest, damnedest thing in the whole of Panem, _she didn't_.

She didn't say yes.

She didn't and that made his stomach churn for the hundredth time today.

She didn't say yes and he felt goddamned foolish at how much he wished she did.

* * *

><p>(Speak of Dreams and Leaves)<p>

Possibly because of his excitement and unexpected optimism, and for relatively quite sometime now too since they left the West Village, Finnick still hadn't thought of the slight gossip or murmurs the people of Four would say once they finally get to realize that he was on a date with Annie. But more importantly, because of this same excitement gobbling up his brain, he also wasn't able to plan the date thoroughly as he would like (he finally now realized). He was just going with his gut feeling because truthfully, he didn't know what to do. He didn't have any references. It was really his first date—a real and an uncomplicated date. Although leading Annie along the rocky valley towards the lighthouse was the complicated and comical part, realizing again that he had not been in this area of the district for so long now. For some instances, Annie had to point him into the right direction which ultimately (he believed) made his ears turn the color pink. But after a few more rocks thrown and a few shrubberies pushed away, they finally arrived unscathed on the graveled spot of the lighthouse—its five-story, rounded body towering him and Annie and overlooking the West Beach.

"So what do you think?" he turned and asked.

"Of the lighthouse?"

"Yeah, the lighthouse. Do you like it?"

"It's nothing I haven't seen before." She shrugged back. "Why are we here?"

"I just wanted to see this place again."

Finnick took her hand once more and climbed up the staircase. When they finally landed on the top level, they went around the huge light right in the middle and then straight out into the terrace door—Finnick pushing it open and then it creaked slightly when he did.

"This is just astounding." said Finnick as Annie joined him, holding on to the railings.

The lighthouse overlooked almost the entire District when gone around it. Right in front of Finnick was the vast District Four sea decorated somewhat, there near the shores, with about ten boats with huge masts. The people were like tiny dots from where he and Annie stood and he never felt absolutely thrilled to be so far away.

"Do you like it?" he asked.

Annie was now leaning on the railings, looking at the sea with distant eyes. She just shrugged. "It's okay, I guess. Great view."

"_But?_" he insisted, knowing that such an answer required probing.

Annie offered a small smile and looked at him thoughtfully. "It's just so lonely up here, don't you think?"

"It never really crossed my mind."

Which was the truth. Finnick took pleasure in this kind of silence, in this solidarity. He never had to deal with anyone on a place like this. He could submerge himself into the emptiness, or the fullness, of it and get no sympathy or provocation from the others. He was safe here.

"I guess it just seems so far away from them." Annie explained further, nodding towards the West Beach down below. "It's like you get to see life passing by and you're just stuck here, not being able to do anything."

Maybe it was the way they saw things now, Finnick thought. That for the past years, he and Annie were completely living different lives. Him, with a fast-paced one—going back and forth between the Capitol and Four, doing all his interviews, his trades, his supposed mentoring; all the while she, as she had put it bluntly, was stuck here, waiting for fate to finally interfere and bring about the change she perhaps desperately needed, or the peace he knew she longed for.

"So you've never visited here before?" Finnick asked.

"Not since we were little kids."

That was too long ago too, he thought. Little kids. He could barely remember that time.

"Do we often go here?" he asked again.

"What?"

"I mean, when we were a little kids, do we hang out here?"

Annie chuckled. "No."

"Oh, okay."

"I remember being here with my parents before." Annie shared. "And I clearly remember you were here with Dylan all the time."

"Really?"

"The number of times I heard you two squeal about it."

He looked at her, frowning, "Perhaps I just forgot. I mean, a lot of things had happened since we were kids—_and I never squeal!_ Dylan might have..."

"True, that." Annie replied, again with a small laugh. But her expression changed once more as he watched her looking back into the sea. And quite suddenly, for the first time that day, Finnick believed, Annie had shifted something. Like what they were below, with the crowd, with the kiosks, with the entirety of the festivities, were just fragments of some illusion—like a life in another universe. And here, Finnick thought, she was sharing something with him. Something he cannot explain and yet he understood. Finnick hadn't realized he was gripping the railings too tightly that his knuckles turned white.

This was what solidarity made Annie—nostalgic, lonely, and honest.

She was now looking at him, studying him, waiting perhaps on when he was going to break because maybe she was beginning to. They only had the past to talk about, he told himself. But Finnick was urging himself not to break. Finnick thought that breaking was embarrassing, that a breakdown was not him. She was still staring at him and was still waiting; reaching out for him to finally say something.

"Finnick..." Annie whispered.

"My brother was special, wasn't he?" He finally blurted, not being able to help feeling the need to, not when she was completely disarming him with her stare. This was where it was going to head down to eventually, didn't it? To his worst fears? He started to speak, even if it wasn't his cup of tea—not in broad daylight at least.

"That look on his face whenever we have to help dad fish," Finnick continued, setting aside thoughts, setting aside inhibitions. "Or actually, even when you just come in for a visit. Dylan was a lot of things, I tell you. He was so full of energy and laughter. He was always hungry too but he never gains the extra weight."

Annie smiled.

Finnick willed himself to be honest because he wanted to be. His family deserved it too, he knew. For him to finally remember. Because by not telling, he felt like he was betraying them—betraying her. That maybe she knew he would speak of them soon enough because he hadn't spoken of them for so, so long remembering was becoming such a challenge; that hearing his brother's name was like scraping an old wound that refused to get healed.

"I mean, does that make sense?" he laughed bitterly.

"It doesn't have to." she whispered back.

"But it should. And it's unfair you know that while he gets to eat all of the good stuff, he doesn't become flabby. Unlike me, the moment I take a bite of a chocolate cake I have to exercise for who knows how long just so I wouldn't get reprimanded by my stylist."

Finnick knew he wasn't merely just talking about food now. He knew his thoughts were somewhere else already, his consciousness unable to barricade him from the worst memories he had kept so far at bay. Finally, and once again, he looked towards the brightening sea. Somewhere there he felt like he could picture his brother's young face—his green eyes that was so much like his, his toothy grin, the slight crinkle on the corner of his eyes when he laughed; Dylan seemed like he was just there—becoming like an epiphany of the life Finnick was forced to disregard, of the life he was trying so hard to recall.

"It's unfair too that he was so young." he finally whispered another truth, struggling to remember the mornings he woke up to the sound of his brother's noise, his father's chuckles, and his mom's sweet greetings. "He could have been so much more..."

"Finnick..." Annie placed a hand on his shoulder.

Finnick let out a laugh now. How his defenses easily collapsed just because she was there. There was not much greatness in him at the moment and he was ashamed. He was just Finnick now. Just Finnick. A cold trickle of embarrassment ran through him. This was not supposed to happen on a date, wasn't it? And he didn't want Annie to realize how much he depended on her for his miseries—the ones he kept under a facade he painstakingly made for himself so that no one would ever see that crumbling part of him. Not even her. But carrying that mask took out all of his energy—physically and emotionally—he didn't know how long he can cope with all the pretending.

Would she look at him differently if he finally gave it all up and showed her what was left of him?

"I'm sorry." he shook his head and glanced back towards her, gripping her hand in his again. "I shouldn't let myself get out of control like that. That was a long time ago."

"It's alright." Annie smiled, "It's more than alright actually, to feel vulnerable."

How it sounded accurately and comically true from the lips that tormented him so for years now.

"I didn't invite you out just to hear about my sad stories, though." he tried to kid.

"But I like stories."

"Not the sad ones, I bet."

"You're not a sad story, Finnick."

Then he felt like he could cry; as he stared at Annie, Finnick knew there was absolutely not a more perfect time that he had held her hand or had stood in front of her. He couldn't recall when he started to feel it, maybe later he can think about it further and rummage through his hazy memories, but she was just amazingly beautiful and smart and perfect to him right at the moment it was so hard for him to properly breathe.

That and the fact that she wasn't pulling her hand still...

* * *

><p>"Do you think they'd show up?"<p>

"Of course they will."

"Did Annie look excited?"

"Hm, that's hard to imagine. I mean she's going with Finnick, right?"

Johnny snorted. "So much for being a friend, Simmons."

Linda huffed. "Look, I'm just being realistic alright? Kudos to Finnick for finally asking her out, but what if Annie just said yes out of pity?"

"You honestly believe that?"

"Well, I might not be wrong you know."

"So, how come you actually panicked when you knew about David?"

Linda slapped his arm, some of the hooks Johnny was holding slipped from his hand.

"Look, Johnny." She huffed once more. "I know Annie more than you do. That girl doesn't have any spite in her bones. And besides," She paused. "We all had to feel for Finnick, after all he's been through."

"Now there, stop." Johnny snapped.

"What?"

"That thing about feeling sorry for Finnick. He doesn't like it." He explained. "And more importantly, he doesn't deserve it. The poor guy's been trying so hard to move on and people just keep on clamouring back up _that_ event in his life."

"Fine, maybe he doesn't deserve any pity. But I'm just trying to be sympathetic! I mean wouldn't you? You're his best friend."

"As his best friend, I forbid you to be sympathetic. Give him some credit, Linda. He's a Victor. He's strong as he looks. Don't go telling me he's not!"

"I didn't say anything!"

"You were about to."

"That's not what I'm supposed to say."

"Not arguing again, I hope?" Danny Cross entered his shack with a handful of knotted ropes in his hands. Elizabeth Fisher came up next to him, holding a large picnic basket.

"Why is it that every time I see you two, you are debating about something." The red hair asked, putting the basket on the counter and starting to unload it.

"Trying to rip their heads off, if you ask me." Danny smirked.

Linda rolled her eyes. "Whatever."

"So what is it this time?" Elizabeth asked again, now pulling out some sandwiches from the basket and carefully placing them on the counter.

"Nothing, really." said Linda.

"She was insulting Finnick so I felt the need to defend him." Johnny scoffed.

Danny raised an eyebrow. "Insulting Finnick?"

"I didn't insult him! All I said was that _maybe_ Annie went to her date with Finnick out of pity."

"_That is insulting!_" exclaimed Johnny.

"Oh, that's today isn't it, their date?" Elizabeth inquired.

"Yep," answered Danny with a smirk, now hanging the ropes on the far end of the shack. "I saw them an hour ago at the square. Didn't feel the need to disturb, seems like they're having fun."

"You see!" Johnny cried. "Finnick can be good company, if he wants to anyway."

"Why do you two always argue about Finnick and Annie?" Elizabeth asked, now handing them some refreshments from her picnic basket.

Johnny dutifully took the tumbler before saying, "Linda likes to meddle."

"No, I don't." the other blonde retorted. "And may I remind you, _you_ were the one who happened to start this argument in the first place. You were nervous about them not showing up to support you for the Haul."

"Aw, Johnny," Danny shook his head, now also drinking from his own tumbler. "Don't you think we're enough support? That hurts."

"C'mon, don't listen to this dork." Johnny replied, glaring at Linda. "I'm fine!"

Linda laughed unabashedly, spilling some orange juice on the floor. "If you say so."

* * *

><p>"I feel like this is the first time I'm doing this." he said. They were still leaning on the lighthouse rails, watching the West Beach. "And it feels really nice."<p>

It was getting better, Finnick thought. Even after that disastrous few minutes (his skin still slightly crawling at the thought of how easily he succumbed to his worst memories), he felt like he could get used to dates—dates with Annie in particular. It wasn't so bad. He barely needed the suave lines he learned from the Capitol or the small reflexes he used to do to appease a trader. Of course, he reminded himself. He was not on a date for a trader. He was on a date because for once, he wanted to be on a date.

"First time doing what?" Annie tucked her hair behind her ear when the wind blew. He _hated_ that she let go from his hand a while back, but she went around the lighthouse observing the view and he thought watching her from afar—from where he remained standing, leaning—wasn't as bad as he initially thought.

"This." he gestured his hands and shrugged. "A date."

Annie laughed.

"What?"

"You had dates before, Finnick." She explained, resting her arms on the rails, looking again to the far away sea. "Countless times we saw that during broadcast."

Finnick tried to hide his shivers. Those weren't dates. Whatever was televised for the nation to see was an external layer to what would happen right after—when the cameras were not there, when the curtains closed, when there was no one but him and his 'date'.

"Those weren't really dates." he murmured.

Annie looked at him, eyebrows raised.

"What?" he asked.

"Let's not go in there." She whispered back. "I remember the last time we did, I fell off the docks and we started a new war."

Finnick finally managed a laugh. "True. I wouldn't want to ruin this."

Annie looked at him intently, a slight wonder on her face—her eyes were mischievous and there was a smirk on her lips. "May I ask you something then?"

It was Finnick's turn to raise an eyebrow. "Alright?"

He held his breath and waited for her. And knowing Annie, she could hit him with a hard one.

She chuckled before proceeding, possibly because of the expression of his face (nervous and pale). Then she stood up straight and took a deep breath.

"Why did you ask me out then?"

* * *

><p>Chivy Dweller drove surprisingly slow for a woman of her caliber.<p>

She arrived at the District not far too long ago with another mission to face, just as it was exactly a week ago that she had delivered Finnick from the Capitol after he fulfilled the sent request of a patron, as stated by Klaus DeMonch in his letter a few weeks back. As usual, Finnick despised it. True, he was just three days gone from the District and possibly, his friends didn't even notice his departure. But all the same, the disgust didn't leave the Victor's face when she fetched him from the Capitol.

"Just think about the Bonfire, darling." She urged him then as they traveled on the train. "I bet you can't wait."

Finnick was staring out the window deep in his thoughts, as always. She wondered how someone so beautiful could be so miserable.

"I feel dirty." was all he said.

"Why don't you take a bath then?"

She watched as he rolled his eyes.

"Aren't you excited to go home, though?" she pressed.

He only shrugged.

"You're supposed to be used to this by now." Chivy knew that it was unfair to say that. But he must know that for as long as he lived, his trades will go on forever.

"That's not a nice thing to say." he murmured.

"I know, I'm sorry."

"That's the thing though." Finnick continued after a little while, still looking at the passing fields and concrete outside. "I'm used to it—the idea of this, knowing that I have to do what I'm told. That I can't do anything—that I can't turn things around, that I can't make any of this stop. That even if I feel angry and violated, there's nothing I can do. The irony of how they call me a Victor even if I'm so helpless."

Those tirades weren't new to Chivy's ears. He wasn't her first Victor to undergo such government requests. The others thought that the easiest way to cope with their new realities was to embrace it, to live it. Soon, they became their worst fears; they became the people they hated to become. It was horrible for her to watch innocent lives become corrupt and unrespectable. But Finnick wasn't like the others. He, for so long now, was silently fighting the norm Victors like himself succumbed to in order to ease their pain, their families' suffering. For Finnick, the more offers he got, the more he became annoyed by it. He didn't treat those as compliments but rather, they were all additional strings tied to him, forbidding him to escape his fate.

Chivy could only do so much without hurting her own reputation. Her worst fear was for someone to replace her as District Four escort. She could only imagine the struggle Finnick and Mags would endure in gaining the trust of whoever will replace her; their struggle perhaps to gain that person's protection from further damage of the Capitol.

Chivy didn't exactly know how she was able to drag her feet late last night to ride the train and into the government car to travel around Four. All she knew was that she dreaded this day the moment an envelope slipped past under her apartment door two days ago. A chill ran through her, as it always did, whenever the President's stamp was etched on its flap. It was a chill that warned her there was nothing she, or Finnick, could do.

A pleasant morning was all she hoped for and that a good and scrumptious meal was what he had for breakfast. Generally, she was hoping for an understanding and patient Finnick today. It was a shot in the dark, she knew too, given her news, but that was all she could do now. But still, she couldn't forget that when she drove past the West Beach earlier and _of course_ she had to see him—so familiar yet surprisingly so unrecognizable. There was a sincere and genuine smile rarely seen on his young and handsome face. He was holding the hand, undoubtedly, of the only woman that mattered in his life. Chivy gave out a small smile and shook her head, all the more feeling the weighted dread on her shoulders; anticipating now of his rampage and his helplessness.

She couldn't believe she had to do it again. Today, of all the days.

* * *

><p>(Words Scarcely Begun on the Lips)<p>

It was so simple, so easy.

Finnick exhaled and laughed.

"What?" Annie exclaimed, slapping his shoulder. "What's funny?"

"You." Finnick reasoned, now shaking his head at the beautiful—perfect, wonderful, breathtaking—albeit ridiculous girl, in front of him. "You are funny."

"_How so?_"

He started inching closer towards her, disbelief still etched on his face because how could she not know? Not when he was trying to keep her hand in his all morning (and at how he was trying to do so again); how could she not know when perhaps, the rest of their friends already knew—_when David already knew_.

"This is what I want, Annie." he started, reaching out and settled his hand on her cheek. "For the longest time now, I've been dreaming to be on a date with you. And damn I wish I'd done it sooner."

* * *

><p>"Oh." was what Annie could ransack from her brain. Of all the proper words she knew—'thank you', 'nice', 'that explains it'—<em>Oh<em> was the only word (was it even a word?) she could produce.

"Well, don't act too surprised." Finnick continued, releasing her from his hold and turning towards the sea again. "I'm not the only one, I bet. What was I, the thirteenth person to ask you out for the Bonfire?"

Annie snorted. Well, he was not wrong.

"Yeah. Thirteenth. Didn't know you could get so lucky."

"Didn't know I could too. What with David and the others have against me."

She laughed. "The other eleven don't even count, believe me. They possibly asked me out on a bet. But yeah, David's... pretty nice to me."

Finnick looked back at her and nodded. "Yeah, he seems like a good guy. Pity we didn't get to know him that much."

"He seems so mysterious." Annie explained, remembering how it was in the Government School just a few weeks back when David Gray was always at her side; or those afternoon meetings on the West Beach watching the sunset. Finnick didn't know about those escapades and somehow being here with him at the lighthouse made it feel like those meetings were some secret she needed to divulge to him. He did share his own miseries just a few minutes back, she considered. But it was something she had expected from him, like he was waiting for someone to finally listen, even if he didn't even want to talk.

Annie wanted so desperately to ask Finnick of what had happened. To his family, to his routines at the Capitol, to his young self—a lot of them in the District could only guess and they can only guess based on the little pieces the Capitol wanted them to know. Worst, Annie could only guess on what Finnick wanted her to know. As she looked back at him, as he was still probably pondering on the mysteriousness of David Gray, Annie was slightly glad to know they were finally starting somewhere—that they were, or at least she was, trying to forget about the animosity floating over them whenever he was around town.

For a time too, when they were younger and possibly more unforgiving, Annie couldn't take the thought of Finnick becoming a Capitol pawn. That was where all Victors were headed, she knew, after witnessing how several Victors from Four eventually turned out. With the exemption of Mags, Annie never wanted any District Four tributes to win. Cruel to think of it that way, but she'd rather see them wane fighting inside the Games rather than succumb to the life waiting for them in the Capitol.

She hated it. She hated that Finnick won. She hated that he was going to be like the people she hated. Even when she was relieved to see him alive—that he was still there like the seven year old she knew, grinning in front of the cameras, running his hand through his hair—she knew, the moment he faced the entire country with the Capitol logo emblazoned on his white shirt, he was theirs. And perhaps, there was no coming back. She rejoiced in the simplicity that it made his family happy—Frank, Natalia, and Dylan. They celebrated his return and survival. For their sake she smiled. But it didn't go unnoticed that she was starting to distance herself; a number of Odair dinner invitations she let pass, pretending she'll be spending the night at Linda's house, or that one time Finnick looked for her and she couldn't bear see him. Soon, they just became that _way_, so far apart.

Things turned much colder because even if Annie thought Finnick would not take notice of her absence, it seemed like he did. And he challenged her by distancing himself too. So it appeared after that, all connection was lost. Until just a few nights ago, when he finally asked her to the Bonfire and she finally allowed him to do so.

"Hmm. David the Mysterious" Finnick chuckled beside her. "Never knew you find the mysterious kind attractive."

"I never said I was attracted to mysterious men!" Annie exclaimed, recovering from her deep thoughts.

"Don't let the _oh-handsome-one_ hear you say that."

"Don't mock him, he _is_ good-looking."

Finnick snorted and stood up straighter. "I am good-looking."

"But you know it, so it gets ruined."

"It's called confidence, Ann." he kidded, but slouched back. "See how you easily wound me?"

"I never knew you to be so sensitive, being a Victor and all."

Finnick smirked. "I could surprise you."

"At some point during the last few days, you already did."

His face lighted and there was a shy smile on his face—the kind that didn't really reach far too out to his ears. But it was softer and kinder, and he looked down to his feet.

"Compliments scare you, Odair?"

"No," he said. "Not entirely. Coming from you though is another story. I never once thought you'd actually say something good to me."

Annie rolled her eyes. "I told you. I don't hate you."

"Anymore?" he chuckled.

"Anymore." she replied, laughing with him.

"And you did say yes to this date. That proved something, doesn't it?"

"Prove what, _exactly?_"

He laughed again. "That David and the others don't have _anythin_g against me."

"Although," Annie took a moment, eyebrows creased together. "I think I do need to apologize to the others, shouldn't I? Especially to David."

"What for?"

"They did ask me first."

"But why should you say sorry?"

"Because I didn't accept. That I am here with you instead."

"You're sorry that you're here with me?" Finnick eyed her incredulously.

Annie only rolled her eyes. "You know that's not what I meant."

"_Are you certain?_"

"Finnick!" she nudged him. "David needs an explanation. More than anyone."

"Hmm."

"It's just that," she started to explain, looking at her hands that are now gripping the railings. "We did spend some time together and he's starting to become a really good friend."

Finnick nodded. Annie wasn't really sure if he was acknowledging what she was saying or at least had an idea where it was going.

"And he did say something else." she whispered after a while.

Finnick's eyebrows shot and urged her to continue. But Annie suddenly felt guilty, as if something wasn't right in telling Finnick; she suddenly wasn't sure that she had to. Those afternoon meetings were something she shared with David—most especially that one time where he confessed about the effect she had on him, or the way Willard was now suddenly so curious about 'That handsome gray-eyed boy.' She felt bad knowing that she was the one who started this in the first place, all the confessing, and Finnick already did his part—albeit still lacking the information she wanted to know. Nevertheless, he did let her in somehow.

But who was she kidding, though? She knew that what worried her now was Finnick's reaction if she did tell. Will he be angry? Will he actually care? Other than a person from his past, what was she to Finnick, anyhow? More than that, what did she want to be exactly? Annie was definitely beginning to feel more terrified of her own reaction _to his_ reaction.

"You know what," Finnick finally spoke, her silence possibly telling him of her hesitations. "You don't need to say it."

Annie looked up. He was smirking—the one she'd come to know so well while growing up.

"You don't need to tell," he repeated. "You don't need to tell me anything because I already know. In fact, a lot of people know."

Surprised, Annie let out a breath and shook her head. "Whatever do you mean?" She tried to deny it but the continuing smirk on Finnick's face told her otherwise. He did know.

"You are aware that we go to the same school, right?" he teased. After a little while, "It's not... surprising. What he has been doing for you. The times I saw you both on the beach after school, visiting Mags, or just hanging around. I definitely know what he's up to."

Annie breathed again. _Of course, he had seen those_. Possibly, the whole town knew about their little escapades.

"It wasn't, you know, official or anything." Annie murmured, now feeling totally embarrassed.

He shook his head. "It's not my business Annie, and honestly, I really don't care."

Annie's chest heaved painfully. So that was it. That was his answer, hitting her right there in the middle. She continued to stare at her hands and let her hair get carried by the wind to cover up her face. It surprised her—that overwhelming feeling of disappointment. Truthfully, she wasn't expecting that.

Even if she could face it, even if she already had an idea, it still did confirm her thoughts. She was just his person from the past. A sanctuary of some sort that could transport him back to the days he still had his parents. So he could remember; so he could redeem himself. Annie simply was an instrument.

"I mean don't get me wrong," Finnick then continued, cutting Annie from her thoughts. "But do you actually think his affections would even stop me... from reaching out to you?"

Annie froze. _What did he just say?_

Finnick gently swung her so that she was facing him. He slowly lifted her chin. He gazed at her intently; wondering, frowning... slightly frustrated. "Were you even listening to me earlier, Annie? Please don't let me say it again because it took me three long years to finally admit it."

* * *

><p>He was out. Not even remotely half way through the intensity of his feelings for her but Finnick hoped he got it across—somehow. How could she even doubt now that they were on an <em>actual date<em>? Sometimes he still couldn't believe how insecure she could get even if she didn't have any reasons to be. But that was Annie to him—kind and selfless. With a smart mouth, he had to admit; stubborn at times and wouldn't easily take a lying down. Annie was all sorts of perfection and imperfection for him. Maybe even for David too. But David didn't matter today.

She was Annie—_his_ Annie—he wanted soon to believe. Slightly flushed now that he was still gazing at her and had confessed vaguely of a promise (he was on a roll today. Confessions seemed to be an occurrence during dates) that this was not just a catch-up between two old friends, that this was entirely something else.

He caressed her cheek and finally spoke, breaking the silence. "Would you at least say something?"

She stared at him for too long that he thought he could memorize her features yet again—not that he couldn't perfectly recall.

"What do you want me to say?" she whispered.

Finnick grinned. How badly he needed to hear it, how he had achingly wanted to know. "Well, since you so kindly asked me why I invited you out to this date, I guess it's pretty fair for me to ask why on earth did you actually say yes?"

That broke whatever trance she was in. Suddenly, Annie was laughing, taking her eyes off him finally.

"Are you trying to outsmart me?" she asked disbelievingly.

"No," Finnick just shrugged. "I was actually trying to pry out an answer. A real answer."

She stopped laughing and huffed. She was surveying him, expecting perhaps a punch line he would throw at her, explaining how he had made such a tremendous joke. But it won't come, Finnick stared back intently. She had to know that.

"Finnick," she started again, more calmly this time.

"Yeah?"

"You see we haven't, you know..."

"What?"

"Finnick..."

He sighed. "Will you just tell me the truth?" After a while, he touched her cheek once more, leaning in closer. "Is it that difficult? Did you feel forced to be here?"

"No!" she exclaimed, waving her hand. "No, I don't."

"Then what?" he held on to her for some time, deciphering what she was thinking—trying to unravel the truth swimming inside her head, hoping that she would say what he had wanted to hear. Had she forgiven him for his absence? For the lost years that they had, for those nights that he had looked upon a trader though wanting nothing but to see her face?

"Finnick," But so suddenly, a loud cracking noise from the West Beach interrupted them. It was soon followed by the echoing of cymbals and drums and few more fireworks. The gathering crowd below also now doubled in size, signaling that the Haul ceremony was about to start. Finnick realized he'd now lost his chance for an answer.

"The Haul," Annie spoke quietly, confirming his thoughts; her face inches away from his. "I think we need to go now."

Silly Bonfire Haul. Silly. _Silly_.

Finnick managed to give her a small smile, consoling himself in the thought that there was enough time during the day to prod her for answers.

"Don't you even think this is the end of it, Cresta."

She laughed, slowly moving away now. "Then I guess you just have to wait and find out."

Without any more words, Annie ran inside the lighthouse then towards the staircase, abruptly and successfully leaving him so unsatisfied.

* * *

><p>(Go Out Toward The Water)<p>

There was a small stage just a few feet away from the docks, where in view as well, was a District guard already escorting the Mayor towards that leveled platform where a lone microphone stand was billeted.

Johnny took a deep breath as he lined among several other young men in front of the stage. Some were waving to a couple of spectators, or rather _admirers_, a few feet away; some were merely stretching and flexing their muscles in preparation to the tedious work they would be doing soon, and some, well just him—Johnny—honestly, was seemingly perplexed with all that is happening he felt like he was about to vomit.

Because damn he was nervous. He lied to his friends, of course, that he was fine. But what can he do now?

The District Mayor tapped the microphone once and cleared his throat. An assistant hurriedly approached him and handed him a sheet of paper, probably to read off whatever it was he was about to say.

_"Ladies and gentlemen,"_ the Mayor began, his voice booming on huge speakers surrounding the West Beach. _"Here we are once again, to a day of celebrations. We, at District Four, remember the gifts our dear President Snow has shared with us. It is with his bountiful support that made our District one of the finest districts in Panem..." _There was a huge applause from the crowd. "... _where there is always an assurance in our safety, our food supplies, our general well-being..."_

But Johnny couldn't hear the Mayor any longer. He was feeling really terrible and the world around him seemed to be moving in circles. He looked for a familiar face. On his right, he saw Danny and Elizabeth. They too weren't listening to the Mayor but were staring at him, with huge smiles on each. Danny even gave him a wink and a thumbs-up. Beside the couple was Willard Cresta, also smiling, proud perhaps of what a skinny, curly blonde boy like him had decided to make of his dull District Four life. Linda was also still _surprisingly_ there beside the Cross-Fisher tandem. She looked annoyed, perhaps because of the crowd, but she skeptically nodded at him. He couldn't find Finnick nor Annie anywhere, but it didn't even matter anymore. He knew he was already turning green and his breakfast seemed to want to crawl out of his stomach. How he wished he didn't eat all those sandwiches Elizabeth had prepared.

_What had he gotten himself into?_ He wasn't Finnick, he wasn't Danny, he wasn't David, and he most definitely wasn't even half the physicality of the boy standing next to him, stretching his body for all the women to swoon at, his biceps bulging with what looked arms padded with rocks.

He wasn't anyone of these men lined up alongside him.

_He can't do it._

Johnny looked around. He had a few mere seconds to back out of the line and disappear among the crowd. He was skinny and none would even notice he'd be gone. That was a good plan. But then,

"Hey, Johnny!" he heard someone said, but not loud enough for everyone to hear. Johnny turned to where the voice came from. "Over here!"

And then there he was, scruffy and toothy like he remembered him, Thomas Ray beamed proudly at his direction, with his younger sibling, Stella, in tow.

The boy waved at him and then held his sister's little hand to do the same. "I'm rooting for 'ya!" he shouted.

Johnny afforded to give Thomas and Stella a small smile, surprised at this uncalled for support. Despite his still churning stomach, Johnny realized he didn't feel any better but he suddenly felt the need to be.

_"... It has been a fruitful year for our District and today, as we celebrate this momentous day of our summer season, our most beloved and most majestic time of the year, I bring to you my joyous welcome to our Annual Bonfire Haul."_ In the background, the Mayor finally ended his speech. He did a little bow and had a generous applause from the gathered crowd. It wasn't long after that though when the whistles and the cheers began, making Johnny even more petrified than he was just seconds before. And then suddenly,

"Chin up, Pearson!" Another voice shouted. And he knew that voice—that shout—and only one person could dare.

Finnick was just now standing right beside Thomas, with Stella now up on his shoulders. Annie was with them too and she was grinning widely. He knew they would show up (but he definitely did, in fact, doubted for a while there at the shack). Seeing all his friends finally complete along the shore, he could not help but realize at how much it was a scene he could get used to, even if it mattered only a little right now because he was going to be among the boys joining the contest and they would be far away, probably perched on the dock, anticipating under the warm sun and perhaps occasionally stomping on the warm beach sand, of all the other schemes about to happen on this day. How he just wanted to be with them and wait for the Haul to be over.

"You don't want to drown in sorrows before you even reach the water, do you?" Finnick continued.

"Shut up." Johnny yelled back, finally finding the courage to do so. It earned a few laughs from the crowd and a large grin from Finnick.

"I'll see you at the Bonfire." Finnick shouted back.

"Yeah, yeah, sure. Have fun you lovebirds, I'll get you guys a drink tonight after _I_ lit the fire." He blurted back. Johnny didn't know where that came from. Not the 'lovebirds' part, truly, but that thing about lighting the fire.

Surely now?

_"All participants to the docks!"_ the Mayor announced.

Smiling one more time to Finnick and Annie, Johnny picked up his equipment and started to walk with the others, appreciating, even just for a bit, the thunderous applause they were receiving. He knew he wasn't going to win it but he sure as hell could try. For his friends, at least. And for little Thomas and Stella.

"Hey," Finnick called again and Johnny looked back. "You'll do great."

For the first time that day, he might have slightly believed it too.

* * *

><p>At the sound of the horn, all the contestants went up to their place on the docks. Lining up on his side was Willard, Danny, and to Johnny's surprise, David Gray. Danny was already reaching out to his equipment while Willard went ahead to prepare the boat he was going to use.<p>

"You scared, buddy?" Danny asked.

"Not more than the usual, I guess." he shrugged. "What's David doing here?"

Danny turned to look at David who was awkwardly trying to help Willard. The old man, on the other hand, seemed to be amused. Johnny could only guess why.

"Well, he volunteered, believe it or not." Danny answered him. "Just before you arrived at the shack, he asked if he could help out during prep. And I thought, why not? We could always use a helping hand."

Johnny knew there was only one reason David Gray was helping him. Either because David found out that Johnny knew about what he said that day on the Cresta household or he was here, point-blank, for Willard.

"It's just so weird though," Johnny tried to be nonchalant as he and Danny walked towards his boat. "We really aren't that close."

"Don't complain now, Johnny. He did pull out all your ropes this morning. Besides, he also volunteered for the festival. Who knows, he might do you some big favour."

Johnny ignored that last remark from Danny. He didn't need Gray's help. But when they neared, he did hope that he could hear what Willard and David was talking about. But all he could comprehend was a chuckle from the old man followed by a garbled reassurance.

"... it's nothing, son." said Willard. Beside him, David gave a small smile—tighter when he saw him and Danny now closing in.

"Gray," Danny greeted. "Good for you for helping out Johnny."

"Yeah, thanks." Johnny urged himself to say.

"It's nothing."

"Well, seems like you're all prepped up here, buddy." Danny cleared, after giving the boat a once-over. He handed him a couple more tools before tapping him on the shoulder. "Just remember, let out all the masts once you feel the wind going northeast. You'd want to be on the lighthouse side rather than the Victor's Village. More fish there."

"Thanks, I guess."

"Here," David took the bag from his hold and pushed him lightly towards the boat. "I'll take this, go in."

Johnny did as he was told, feeling nauseous once again as the three stronger and more confident men stared at him. As he settled down, David walked up and joined him, setting the bag down on his feet.

"Just be careful." he advised. In the background, Danny and Willard were now starting to untie the boat. "The Haul's really about looking for that right spot rather than the strength of the boater. If you find a large enough coral reef, you'd be fine."

"Thanks." Johnny murmured again.

Beside him David sighed. "Look, Pearson. You got yourself into this situation. Be a man and face it."

Heat rose up to Johnny's cheek. "I am doing this!"

"Doesn't seem like you want to."

"I don't need your opinion, Gray."

"Of course you don't." David agreed as he put his hand on his waist. "But their opinion matter to you."

David nodded towards the shore. He saw Finnick and Annie settling down on a blanket. Thomas and Stella were also not for away and Elizabeth and Linda were just taking their own seats on their own blanket. Then as if he could feel him staring, Finnick looked back and gave him a salute.

"Why didn't he join?" David then asked.

"What?"

"Finnick. Why doesn't he ever join the Haul?"

Johnny shrugged. "He doesn't like competitions."

David snorted beside him. "Yeah, of course."

"Well, why didn't you?" Johnny challenged him back.

David frowned. "This is not my kind of game, Pearson."

"_Of course._"

"That's not what I meant."

"Well in two weeks, we'll know."

"Tell yourself that, Johnny." David replied, now climbing out of the boat and back into the docks with Willard and Danny. "But at least if you win today, not only do you get to have your own speech, but you could set something on fire."

"Oh you'd wish that, don't you?"

Subtly, as if no one would notice but of course Johnny did (as seemingly, he was the most observant among everyone else), David glanced back towards the beach—flinching slightly as he probably set his eyes on the two people he pretended not to care about (but again Johnny knew that he did). "Yeah, I really wish I could."

With another blast from the horn, Johnny took his attention away finally from other's miseries and focused on his own. With a quick 'good luck', David finally pushed the boat towards the water and in mere seconds, he was floating away.

Unnerved and unfamiliar with this kind of isolation, Johnny felt so small. Turning his back away from the beach and into the horizon, he pulled the nearest pail he could find and finally vomited.

The other boats were now far from him and their masts already in set. He knew that if this kept up, he'd be a laughing stock back there at the beach. Not knowing where to find the courage but still determined not to be laughed at, Johnny disregarded the pail to the other side and stood up, tugging the rope above him to release his own mast. He kept himself busy, even if he didn't know if he was doing the right things, and started to unfold the nets and threw it into the water.

Sitting now on a small chair, he waited for something to happen. Not far from his boat, other contestants were already hauling up their nets and Johnny could just see the small bundle they produced when they lifted it. Tilting his head to his own sprawled out ones, Johnny dragged his net upward but regrettably only had cascading water and empty of what should be a fish (or even just a semblance of it). Angrily, he threw it back, thinking that it could be a long day.

So he lied on the wooden deck instead, wanting nothing but to have this competition finally end. Now this wasn't so grand as he expected. Besides, Johnny knew he'd have no chance of winning this Haul so he will just wait for another boater to speed past him and into the docks before he would steer his way back as well. At least he tried and he made it this far into the sea. Thomas would understand, of course. And Finnick wouldn't mind either. His mother was presumably still in the market selling sweetened fruits and would be here during the Bonfire and more than anything else, he knew she'd rather he got out of this competition in one piece than hurt himself in trying to win.

So what was the deal anyway?

He sat up again, thinking hard about his last thought. What was the deal with this Haul that he felt like he needed to prove something? Glancing back once again into the far shores of the beach, as if he could see them watching and waiting for him—he couldn't deny that even if his mother and his friends won't mind if he lost, what was so wrong in hoping he could win something?

He was always expecting things to turnout ordinarily for him—if not badly; average grades, average looks, average wealth.

Average. Just like all the other blank faces of Four. Deep inside he knew he despised being one. And every day he was reminded of this monotony, more so when he stood by Finnick, and even now too, with the drama going around David Gray.

For once, why couldn't the gossip be about _him_?

But silencing him from his thoughts, Johnny heard a low grumble far ahead on the horizon. He was doubtful about the storm and he was still doubtful about it now. The sun was just too high up there with no clouds in sight. Yet when Johnny retreated back into his daydreaming, a gush of wind came out of nowhere and displaced him from his trance. His mast was curving with the force and before he knew it, the boat was swerving fast. He needed to hold into the railings to keep himself steady.

He couldn't control the boat any longer but did what Danny had told him. He let the wind take him to the northeast side, unmindful that the others were either plainly going north or farther to the other side almost near the Victor's Village. There was no point in fighting it as long as he didn't hit the rocks.

When he felt the boat slowing down (finally, he prayed)—taking his hold off the boat's railings—he stood up straighter and balanced himself before reaching out into the water and spreading the tangled nets once again. As he did, he could dimly make out what was underneath the sea. Looking more closely (almost dipping his head into the water), Johnny wasn't sure but it definitely looked like a pretty big reef. And underneath as well, silver and shining—so many of them, some so little, some huge—he definitely knew what they were.

Not wasting any more time, Johnny lined up his nets directly where the fish were. Then slowly, watching them swimming down below—and then right there—when they almost reached farther from the end of his net, he hauled it upwards, bringing along a huge bundle of flapping and scaly and most definitely heavy herrings. Johnny dragged the net upward once more but heavy with its weight, he tripped on the tiller and fell back although managing to get the entirety of the haul on his boat.

Around him, the fish scattered. Water was sprinkling everywhere and his skin felt raw from the sharp edges of their fins. Despite himself, despite the stench he knew would clung to his hair for days, Johnny laughed with gusto—not knowing of the last time he laughed with so much vigor. But before the enormity of what had happened sunk in and before he could consider the luck someone had bestowed upon him, the forgotten net in the starboard side swung.

And it all felt too familiar, just like how it was moments ago. Hurriedly standing up and into the nets, hauling them up just as he did so in the port side (though not tripping this time), Johnny could not believe it. He didn't know there could be this so much fish on this part of the ocean.

Finding his strength amidst the flapping noises of the fish and his now gooey and slippery boat, he laughed again wholeheartedly; ready to take in more of these fish if he could.

As he looked up, not far away from where he was, he saw the lighthouse just on top of the hill. Down below it, the waves were crashing on the rocks and he knew how beautiful the sea foam must have looked from up there. But as he did so, looking upward still and thanking his friends for believing in him because it made him believe in himself too, he saw his mast—this triangular piece of canvass that led him into this perfect spot; this mast that he definitely owed this day; this mast that had the richest shade of blue he had ever seen, shining bright with the sun, as if part of the sky.

* * *

><p>Some boats were now lined up again on the shore, some just returning from the distant sea, their masts still scattered on the horizon—red, green, white—and the people started to flock the beach once again, finding their own spot and sit out and wait for their favorite boater to return. In the middle of it all, a few workers already started digging a large pit for the Bonfire later and a few also started dispatching driftwoods to it.<p>

Finnick leaned whilst using his elbow for support and stared out into the sea with Annie beside him, sitting with her legs stretched out. They placed their blanket just under the tree to shade them from the oncoming heat of the sun.

"So," said Finnick.

"So?"

"About earlier."

"What about it?"

"You'd think I'd let you get away with it?"

"Get away with what?"

"_Annie._"

"_Finnick._"

"You owe me an answer." Finnick sat up straight and watched as Annie smirked at him. "It's only fair that you give me an answer. I mean, I've said lots of things today."

"But I didn't ask you to, did I?" Annie teased. And she was right at that too.

Finnick scratched his head instead, knowing that he might not win this one—possibly too, knowing that he can never win against her.

"Fine," he conceded, lying down finally on the blanket and resting his head under his arms.

He hoped that it was quieter on the beach but he loved that he could just hear Thomas and Stella playing with the other kids somewhere down the shore. He wouldn't even dare look for his Aunt Irvette and Uncle Marion but he knew they could be somewhere in here too. But what he most liked about this day was the lack of ogling and inquiries from the townsfolk. They didn't dare question why he was with Annie and he was grateful as well that she wasn't the one being pestered.

So suddenly, as if teasing him still (torturing him, most likely), Annie lied by his side and rested her hands on her stomach. In the corner of his eyes he couldn't help but gape at this new development. He wasn't complaining but he sure didn't expect this to happen. She closed her eyes and Finnick took this opportunity to stare more intently, now slightly pulling himself up to get a good view.

Her lashes were long and thick and tiny freckles covered the top of her nose. The lights were playful too upon her face as the leaves above them swayed into the breeze. She looked so at ease that Finnick wanted to bask in it, dreaming that someday he could master such a demeanor. Smiling and recovering from his quiet outburst of joy, he laid back and tried to mimic her, resting his hands on his stomach and closing his eyes.

"_Curiosity._" Annie murmured after a while.

Finnick pried his eyes open and looked down on her. She still had her own eyes closed but there was a smile on her lips.

"You wanted to know why I said yes and that is my reason. I was curious." Annie opened her eyes now and gazed at him, "I was curious on how you are going to be on a date."

Smirking, he replied. "And how am I doing so far?"

Sitting up and eyeing him, as if appraising. "I can't say yet."

Finnick sat up straight as well, quite relieved with her response. Because if he was to rate his performance, he'd say he was doing okay—more than okay if he allowed himself to be more truthful. Because even if she denied it, even if she continued to tease him, he knew she was having fun. If she wasn't, if she was not okay with any of the things they had done, she would have left him already.

"Fair enough." he finally said. "I still have the entire afternoon and the Bonfire to convince you that I am the best date you'll ever have."

Her laughter ran through him and he felt another tug in his chest so overly familiar to him at this point, although still finding himself quite unused to its intensity.

_What was she doing to him? _

But then from far away, they could hear yelling and shouting—some congratulatory, some disbelief. The others sitting around them also started to notice and they soon went towards the dock where a few number of people were already assembled.

Wonder crossed Annie's face and Finnick knew too that he was wearing the same expression. But not relatively far from view, and ironically going into the opposite direction, Linda was running towards where they were sitting, elated and yet somewhat astounded. When she reached their spot, she looked like she could have fainted.

"You won't believe this," she breathed. "_But Johnny just won the Haul._"

* * *

><p>(Don't Go Far Off, Even For A Day)<p>

They were still sitting on a patterned blanket—at the beach, as promised—which Finnick had borrowed from the shack where Danny and Johnny were busy talking about the techniques and speed limits he did for the Haul. The sun was already preparing to set from behind them and true, he had missed his daily routine of watching the sunrise this morning, but he'll be more damned if he had missed this.

Finnick was again inside the shack to get some snacks from the picnic basket Elizabeth prepared for everyone. But from the looks of it, it seemed that it had already been ransacked and he guessed Johnny and Danny had a whole lot of fun with it.

"So I believe that even if _I _didn't win, _you'd_ still win right?"

"What are you talking about?"

Finnick heard Johnny sigh beside him, "You look like you are having the time of your life out there with Annie."

"Hmm." was all he replied, still searching for proper food.

"Ahh, what am I thinking? You are dying of happiness out there." Johnny snorted.

"You know what," Finnick finally said, closing the basket lid and was now holding two sandwiches and two tumblers. "I am absolutely ecstatic. I never felt better."

"Figures." Johnny rolled his eyes, now lining all his equipment on the shop's counter. "... bet you are here just to spend the whole Bonfire with her."

"I do, as a matter of fact." Finnick agreed quickly. "Look, Annie and I really planned to spend the whole day on the beach to cheer for you, buddy. Just got side tracked at the lighthouse. Besides, _you'd_ still be lighting the bonfire tonight. I wouldn't want to miss that." Finnick winked.

That earned him a smirk and a silent 'thank you' from his best friend. It felt nice being able to help Johnny through this entire spectacle in his own little ways. Danny and Willard were the best teachers Johnny could ask for and there was no way Finnick can actually contribute something essential to this fishing competition. Besides, he had enough of all those competitions. For once, he wanted to just be on the sidelines.

Finnick turned to look back towards his best friend, happy to see how Johnny's hard work had paid off for him. So not wanting to anymore disrupt his best friend's solitary elation, he nodded at him one last time before heading back to the beach.

"You won't mess this up, would you?" Johnny spoke before Finnick could walk out of the shack.

He turned. Frowning and slightly distrubed, Finnick placed the food he was holding on the towel shelf next to him, "What's that supposed to mean?"

Johnny sighed and scrutinized his equipment once more. "Nothing. I just meant... you two look good together."

Finnick watched as his best friend rummage his tools senselessly.

"Don't let anyone ruin that." He added.

Finnick huffed. "Of course, I won't."

"Then that's great." Johnny murmured at first. But then finally, he turned to look at him after a deep breath. "I really wish you the best, Fin."

Finnick crossed the room again and huddled close to his best friend. "Where is this coming from, Johnny? I mean seriously, lighten up. _You won the Haul!_ And believe me, I do not have the slightest intention to ruin this—whatever _this_ I have with Annie."

"I know." Johnny sighed, cutting him off. "Look, Finnick. I'm sorry I said that. It meant nothing. I know you won't mess it up."

"Of course, I won't."

"Then that's good to hear."

"Yeah."

Johnny nodded. Finnick watched as he slowly started to put every tool inside his rucksack once more, probably preparing to go back to the beach for the Bonfire ceremony. Finnick wasn't entirely convinced though that this was the end of it. And he couldn't seem to shrug-off that feeling that something had ticked Johnny.

"Johnny, are you sure you're alright?"

"Fin," he now rolled his eyes, as if tired from the conversation. Finnick absolutely didn't get it as _he_ was the one who started it in the first place. "_I'm fine_. Just nervous for the lighting later on, I guess."

Finnick pursed his lips but nodded nonetheless, accepting his best friend's explanation.

"I saw David a while back. I mean, he wished me luck too." Johnny said after a while.

"That's great of him."

"He's okay."

"Yeah, I guess."

Johnny stopped gathering his tools to face him again, but now with a wistful look on his face. "You do know, don't you? I mean... that David... with Annie?"

It took Finnick a little while before answering. "I'm not exactly blind, you know."

"Yeah, I know that. But it's more than just _that_." Johnny further explained. "He's..."

Finnick stared at his best friend, trying to get what he was saying. But he realized there was no point in all of it because he didn't care. Whatever David was to Annie, whatever David wanted to be with her, he didn't care. He took the tumblers and the food from the towel rack once again and began to turn towards the door.

"Look, Johnny. I don't care." he finalized. "Whatever it is with David, I don't care."

Johnny exhaled and shook his head. His shoulders evidently relaxed. "Well that's a relief then."

"A _relief?_ That's such a word. Why so?"

Johnny finally managed a smile. "Well you see, a few days back, I was at the Cresta's for a fishing lesson with Willard when David just appeared out of nowhere. And you wouldn't believe what he told Willard, Fin."

Finnick stilled. This he hadn't heard of. "What?"

"Well," Johnny actually chuckled. "He said he is _in love_ with Annie. Couldn't imagine what Willard felt. When I heard it, I ran for my life. I mean could you just imagine how the hell he was able to say something like that _to her father_..."

Finnick's head felt like it was spinning. He gripped the tumblers tightly and he was just in disbelief. He couldn't process what he had just heard. _In love_. With Annie. David was in love with Annie. And Willard knew about it.

"Since when did you know?" Finnick asked, halting Johnny from his babble. When Finnick turned to look, Johnny was sheepish, ruffling his curly blonde hair.

"Like I said, a few days back."

"A few days back."

"Fin," Johnny protested but with a slight worried and apologetic look on his face. "Look, I didn't know what to do. I mean what was _I _supposed to do? It wasn't really my business. And I didn't... you know... you and Annie weren't really in speaking terms these past few weeks. And well, you weren't really being totally honest yourself..."

"Elaborate, please."

"I mean," Johnny now crossed the room, unmindful now of his stuff. "Who knew you'd hit it off with Annie? Who knew she'd say yes to this date? And more importantly, what do I know about your feelings for her?"

Finnick winced. "You know what I feel about her."

"Do I? You haven't really been that _elaborate_." Johnny snapped. "How will I know if it wasn't just a meager crush? _You __are__ Finnick Odair_."

Finnick glared, anger rising up in his chest. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"I don't know, you tell me." Johnny reasoned back. "I don't know half the stuff that's happening in your life anymore. The only chance I get to finally talk to you, you let yourself get into this hell-hole, pretending that you don't deserve to be happy. I've been saving your ass out there, Finnick. From all the judgement, I remain loyal to you. But sometimes I can't help but wonder too that maybe, _just maybe_, Annie is just this ray of sunshine you can't get enough of because your palette has gone dry in the Capitol!"

He didn't know what happened next but suddenly he had Johnny up against the wall, his hand holding him at the collar.

"Take it back." Finnick whispered, suppressing the anger he was feeling. "Take it back, Johnny."

Johnny's eyes were wide and he looked pale under the bright sunlight passing inside the shack. He was breathing hard, and Finnick realized, he was too.

"I only know things about you now based on what you want to let me know." said Johnny, struggling to speak. "The rest, I learn it from what I see and hear around town and from the Capitol news. So tell me Finnick, what was _I_ supposed to do?"

"You could have trusted my feelings for her, my trust for you."

"Well maybe we all have been foolish. Wouldn't be the first time."

Finnick breathed hard again, watching intently at his best friend who just lashed out a tirade of what his life had become. With another wince, Finnick finally let him go. He took a step back and held his head. He heard Johnny cough and when he glanced, he was now massaging his neck and avoiding looking back at him.

"You could say that again. _Trust_." said Johnny.

It took a long time before either of them said another word. Finnick was now leaning on the towel shelf and Johnny was still on the opposite wall. Outside, Finnick could hear the laughter and the buzzing of the beach. Somewhere he could actually hear Danny laughing, loud and unembarrassed. Somewhere there too, still probably sitting on the blanket from Elizabeth, Annie was waiting for him and their food, wondering perhaps what might have taken so long.

So finally, Finnick gazed outside; and just right on his view, right where the window was, calm and still perfect, Annie was being entertained by a number of kids now sitting on the blanket with her. She was laughing to whatever story the kids were saying—or probably the funny faces they were making, he didn't know. And while seeing her there, and he meant _just there,_ made him feel scared and nervous and overjoyed all at the same time. Because—as if he just realized it now despite that overwhelming feeling—Annie was _just_ _right there_ and he was _just here_, a couple of feet away; both of them, and finally perhaps, finding that perfect timing.

"So what now, Fin?" Johnny finally spoke. Looking back inside the shack, Finnick saw that he was now also staring out into the window, gazing at Annie then back towards him. Johnny shrugged, ruffled his blonde hair again and sighed.

"You know this is not worth fighting for." Finnick said bitterly, still overcoming the fact that he had attacked his best friend.

"Doesn't matter." Johnny replied. "I was out of line."

"No," Finnick admitted. "You weren't. I was."

"Yeah, well..."

"So that's what he really said?" Finnick urged. "That he loves her?"

Johnny snorted. "Yeah. After rambling other nonsensical things."

"_Bless the seas_."

"You tell me."

"And Willard didn't have a heart attack?"

"I thought he was about to. But I ran away before I could affirm myself."

Finnick laughed, unable to resist imagining how Willard must have felt when David confessed his feelings. But this time, he knew too that David truly had something against him. Despite the silliness of what he did, Finnick could not deny the fact that David had the backbone to be truthful and straightforward, something he was not acquainted with for the past years. And it terrified him; how David's pacing had gone from kilometers to now miles away from where he was. And to think he thought he was way far ahead.

"I'm sorry Finnick. I should have told you." Johnny whispered, now walking towards him.

Finnick sighed. "No, please don't say that. I don't deserve that. You were right. I was just not... ready. For any of this." he gestured his hand out, emphasizing. "I owe you a lot Johnny. I could have been more trusting too."

"Look," Johnny finally rallied. "Let's forget about this and just think of something you could do to counter David. Plan your own _hurrah_."

Again, Finnick turned to look outside. And fittingly, Annie turned to look in his way. She smiled through the glass and then curiously, the kids looked at him too, jokingly sticking out their tongues. He heard their tiny voices calling out to him.

"_Do the air drowning again, Finnick!"_

"_I would save you!"_

"_Do you think I could be the shark?"_

"_Are you sure you know how to swim?"_

"_Have you gotten the food already?"_

Finnick saw Annie grin once again and his stomach did that familiar flip. He cannot deny this now. Not when he knew perfectly at this moment, as he stared at her—and more so even long before, when they were just fifteen years old and he had returned to District Four after a year of doing the Victor's Tour, when he got off the train and onto the platform and found out that Annie _wasn't_ there when the rest of them were—that there was absolutely nothing that can concern him if he was without her.

He was in love with her. And he loved her not because he'd known her all his life; most especially not because it was expected. He loved her not for any other tangible or intangible reasons. He loved her because that's the only thing he knew was true. And if by chance they only get to meet then at the beach, with just a glance, he knew he'd love her still.

So no, he was not going to mess this up, because if he did mess this up, _it was over_.

"Maybe it really doesn't matter what David feels for her." Finnick said, looking back at Johnny. He smiled, surprised at the sudden relief it brought. "It does not matter to me because I love her too. I love her since we were fifteen. And maybe it doesn't matter too if you knew or if Willard knew about it. Because honestly, Annie's the most important person that should know of my feelings. If she doesn't, then what's the point?"

Finnick moved, picking up a tumbler and wrapped food that was still on the floor, an aftermath of his outburst.

"I've lost so many already, Johnny. And having her, even just her, would absolutely be enough. I wouldn't easily just give that up."

Beside him, picking up the other tumbler that rolled farther from his reach, he heard Johnny chuckle, "Welcome back, Finnick Odair."

* * *

><p>He was quite more joyous when he returned, Annie thought. Finnick laughed even on the little taunts the kids were throwing at him and there was also an apparent <em>euphoria<em>—however timid and subtle it seemed—etched on his face.

"You look different." she whispered as they walked towards the gathering crowd at the end of the docks.

He took her hand and smirked. "Good or bad?"

She shrugged. "It suits you."

* * *

><p>(Always You Recede Through The Evenings)<p>

Chivy took off her sunglasses and made her way towards the crowded beach. Some did in fact stare at her as it was already summer time in Four and she was still covered in thick black leather with her purple hair not giving much help to cool her facade down.

But their opinions didn't matter at this moment, Chivy thought. And they knew that too. Because aside from making her sweaty all over, the leather clothing she was wearing also branded her as a town visitor and town visitors for Four only meant someone from the Capitol. And she knew, not everyone in Four liked the Capitol.

So instead she continued walking, pacing the grounds, until she saw that familiar bronze hair. Again, she had recognized him immediately; still somewhat surprised that he had actually let children run along and play with him with Annie laughing alongside their small group. As she watched them, Chivy pondered on how foreign this scenario looked—Finnick laughing, Finnick with kids, Finnick looking absolutely contented. Then again, Chivy thought, he was at home. And when he was, it was as if she barely knew him at all.

She stood not too far from where Finnick and his friends had settled themselves, some of the children now sitting atop boulders and crouching on the sand and other adults were now joining their small collection. She recognized Johnny Pearson, who had just been recently announced as this year's winner, and Elizabeth Fisher—whose father was once a famous fisherman in Four, personally awarded by the President himself. There was also Danny Cross, tall but quite stocky as she had imagined, the endless times Finnick had talked about him, and a blonde haired girl whom she did not recognize.

She didn't want to intrude lest Finnick makes a scene in front of the cheery crowd. Her intrusion might also lead to some questions she—and Finnick—weren't ready to answer. But time was wasting now though. He had to be travelling soon or he'll miss his appointment.

Chivy tried to get his attention—tried to catch his eye. She wouldn't dare go to their circle and approach him. The least Chivy could do was to give him an illusion of privacy for some more moment before the Capitol takes it away again. So instead, she positioned herself directly on his view. And like a hawk, she watched his every movement, waiting for that one glimpse he had to do to before playtime was over.

* * *

><p>Finnick pretended not to notice even if he had indeed seen her the moment he walked out of the shack, her purple hair standing out among the brunettes and blondes of Four. But the initial annoyance he felt the moment he had glimpsed Chivy Dweller's hair was slowly becoming the panic that was all too familiar for him—and how this had caught him off-guard.<p>

What did they want?

Or now that he realized it (with a slow shiver running down his spine), _what had he done?_

* * *

><p>Then not a moment too long after, as if he couldn't pretend anymore, knowing deep in her heart he was just feigning not to notice her so he could drag out the time he had with his friends, <em>there it was<em>. He flinched, ever so slightly so as not to be noticed by anyone. But like a knife, he pierced her. His friends were still animatedly chatting (Johnny and the blonde seemed to be arguing), but his gaze was fixated on her, knowing fully what was to happen next. Chivy knew how much he hated the reality she brought along with her. And just by still looking at him, she knew how much he must hate her too.

* * *

><p>"<em>What is she doing here?" <em>

Johnny whispered behind him as he still stared at Chivy. Finnick shrugged, pretending he didn't have any idea. Annie and the others were now sitting on the beach sand, Linda still fuming after a brief argument with Johnny on the rules of the Haul.

"You weren't supposed to stay in one place." she huffed then.

"The wind was not on my side! You can't control the tides too, Simmons. It's not my problem I it took me on that spot of the sea where all of those fish happen to live."

"You were supposed to be _navigating_."

"The Haul's not a _boating_ competition."

When finally Danny interrupted and put a halt into the conversation (Johnny didn't do anything that wasn't allowed in the rule book, he confirmed), Finnick couldn't take the prickly feeling on his back anymore as he knew Chivy would still be staring at him. So he challenged her back and finally stared directly at her.

_What do you want?_

"Does she want something?" Johnny insisted.

Reluctant to face his best friend and have him see his fear, Finnick then said the only words he knew too well. "I don't know."

"Well might as well invite her? She might want to join us for the Bonfire."

He shook he said and finally turned to face Johnny. "I highly doubt that."

With a frown and a shrug, Johnny retreated to their friends. As he did, Finnick followed suit too. But instead of sitting down as what Johnny did, he veered Annie away and blocked her view from the escort, separating them as well from their small party.

"What is it?" she smiled. And how she took his breath away yet again—her green eyes bright and reflecting the soon setting sun. She was quiet during the entirety of the debacle between Linda and Johnny but her face was aglow with joy he couldn't keep his eyes off her, not even when he felt Danny nudging him to finally stop staring.

He was ready to say _it_. So, so ready. But in this moment as he took her aside, there was a certain ache in his chest he knew wasn't simply because of Chivy's presence. The ache he felt was like a sudden defeat. Defeat in the thought that he could have made all the difference tonight but knowing somehow too that he couldn't. He thought of how he would be betraying her again for countless times now and realizing how he could ever forgive himself after.

So how can he say _it_? Worse, how can he make her believe it?

"You look beautiful." was all he said, thinking it wasn't any less true. "I think I haven't complimented you on that aspect yet."

She blushed. "That's not necessary."

"Well, but you are."

"Necessary or beautiful?"

"Would you snap at me if I say both?"

Annie rolled her eyes. "Okay, Odair, what is this?"

He managed to laugh. "You know me too well, don't you?"

"I always take the second guess, but yes. I'd like to believe I still know you."

Finnick sighed and took her hand. "Chivy's here."

"The escort?"

He can only nod.

"What does she want?" Annie stilled. He felt her hand begin to tremble and he could see too at how much she was fighting it.

"Don't worry about it," Finnick explained, gripping her hand tightly. "She might just want to talk about Capitol schedules again. You know... beauty regimens. I could probably use a good shampoo."

He ruffled his hair for emphasis, trying to look not at all worried and making her feel as if it was going to be okay—but then telling himself of the same things.

"And she really had to do this today? At the Bonfire?"

"Well," Finnick turned to finally look at Chivy who was still dutifully looking back at him. She had her arms crossed this time and he thought of how much such she really stood out like a thorn among the calm folks of Four. "Technically, it's not _yet_ the Bonfire."

When he looked back at Annie, she was also now curiously staring at Chivy but she managed a small smile to his relief. Pulling her aside once more, he tucked in strands of her hair behind her ear and prayed that this moment would not be the last of the Bonfire for him.

"I'll just check up on her, is that okay?"

Annie shook her head, frowning slightly. "You don't need to ask my permission."

"Well, we are on a date."

"Yeah, but you don't need to ask _me_, Finnick."

"You know _I_ need to ask you." he finalized. For a moment they just stared at each other—she, still frowning at him, and he, with such longing for her. And wanting nothing but to hear her words of assurance, he asked her once again—quiet and hopeful. "You trust me?"

Annie didn't respond as quickly as he had hoped and somewhere between those moments, Finnick felt her hesitations and doubts.

"Yes, I trust you." she whispered back shortly.

Not the least bit satisfied at how she said it and more so at how she looked—with that same stoic expression on her face—Finnick relieved himself in the thought that maybe he just needed to do his part as well, the same way he was asking her to do hers. He knew _he_ had to trust her too.

So he gave her a nod instead and buried his thoughts of doubts deep inside his brain. Then with a final but playful pinch on Annie's cheeks, he managed to walk away from her and then pausing for a moment to say goodbye to the others. As he did, he saw Annie following him albeit stopping to sit beside Linda. But when Finnick thought he finally was able to get away unscathed, it was Johnny who didn't take it lightly. And in some ways, it didn't actually surprise him.

"_You're leaving?_" Johnny exclaimed. "But what about the Bonfire?"

Finnick stiffened. He didn't know what to say. _What was he supposed to say?_ Behind him, he felt Chivy approaching, ready to interfere and flash out her claws. He knew she would have to be rude and unforgiving so they could get away from the situation without divulging anything. But he didn't need her help, and more importantly, he didn't want her dealing with his friends.

"You'd still come back right?" urged Johnny.

So even if it pained him, even if it was so wrong, he did what he knew best. Slowly, as if watching from afar, he was unbecoming himself. He didn't know all of a sudden who possessed him. He didn't know if it was another person speaking for him. All Finnick knew, before Chivy could even reach him, was that his lips spoke of the words that shook the foundation he had built painstakingly with Annie today. In his own thoughts he wished he just didn't say anything, he wished he had the strength to just walk away. But to complete his cover, he knew he needed to lie to them—to her.

"Of course, I'll be back." he smiled.

But Finnick felt odd with that smile knowing it was the same one that brought him in this dilemma in the first place, the smile that attracted all those Capitol traders. And for all the unfairness that was surely about to come, he also knew that this smile caused him to ultimately lose Annie so many years ago, when he first appeared on the Capitol stage as a Victor. And then somewhere between that smile and as he waved his goodbye—as he turned his back on them but in his mind he still saw Annie's blank expression—something hit him squarely on the chest, tingling painfully and unfairly throbbing. He had known that this was it, it was done.

_It was over_.

* * *

><p>(My Soul Winged and Wounded)<p>

Finnick was quiet during the entire trip from the beach to his house and Chivy was glad that he was. She couldn't deal with his words the same way she knew he couldn't deal with hers. But the moment they were finally in his bedroom and started packing away some clothes, Finnick's wrath came about on his bathroom mirror, colliding his fist with it several times until it broke into little pieces.

"Would you like me to help you with your wound or would you rather destroy your other belongings first?" she snapped at him.

Finnick didn't bother to reply and continued throwing things inside the suitcase on his bed. He didn't mind too that his right hand was now profusely bleeding from a cut and that it left blood drips on his floor. He was angrily going back and forth—closet, bed, bathroom, bed, closet, bed—unmindful of what he was packing.

"Look," Chivy finally sighed. "We need to get your hands fixed. Your patron wouldn't like to see that."

Finnick halted in his pace and then glared at her. "Do you actually think I _care_ about what they think?"

"Finnick..."

"Why now, Chivy? Why now and why not tomorrow or next week? _They promised me the Bonfire!_"

Chivy actually managed to laugh this time. He was still such a boy. And for a while, she actually hated herself for allowing this to happen to him. "How could you even believe they would keep their promises, Finnick?"

She crossed the room towards the bathroom and managed to get his first aid kit, avoiding the debris along the way. Finnick was still breathing heavily, staring at his suitcase and hand still bloodied all over. Without asking, she took his hand and wiped the blood away with fresh cotton and antiseptic. He winced slightly when she wiped past the cut.

"It's not deep. You'll survive." she tried to kid. He turned to look at his wound, blinking as if in a trance with the small amount of blood coming out.

"You always say that I'll survive." he murmured.

Finally wrapping gauze on his wound, Chivy snorted. "Would you rather I said you'll die?"

"That'll be easier."

"For whom, Finnick?" she rolled her eyes. "For the Capitol?"

"No, for me."

"Not for Annie, I bet."

She felt him stilled and his anger flared once more, pulling his hand out from her grip and turning his back instead to zip the filled suitcase. "Don't you dare say her name."

"_Oh,_ _I'm sorry_. I didn't mean to taint it."

"I don't need you to be smart about this, Chivy." Finnick lashed out. "There's nothing poetic or romantic about this."

"Who said anything about those, Finnick?" she returned the kit to the bathroom drawer and when finally in the bedroom again, Chivy paused for a moment to appraise her Victor—_tall_, _bronzed hair_, _handsome_, _smart_, _slightly scathed but he'll do_—as a necessary part of her job. She needed to deliver him in all his perfection. But on a day like this, she wanted to believe that she was more than the escort of District Four. Even if the rest of them branded her as a Capitol citizen, she wanted to believe she wasn't anyone like those animals in the city.

Chivy believed that what her Victors needed were friends. And she was trying to be one for Finnick right now. And knowing Finnick, in her own little way, she knew he didn't need any more preambles to prepare him for what he was to face again. Ignoring the fact that it was way too honest, perhaps especially to his still young and rebellious self—a teenage boy amidst all the confusion, and the angst, and of a first love—she said it so anyway, right before he was about to exit his bedroom.

"This is not a love sonnet, darling." Realizing it couldn't get any worse, she continued. "This is a tragedy."

* * *

><p>Finnick left Chivy in his room, not caring if there were still blood splatters and broken mirror on the floor. He didn't care either if Chivy would clean it up or if she'd let it all alone too. Grudgingly, not letting the sting from his wounded hand bother him, he pulled his suitcase behind him, letting it thump all the way down the stairs.<p>

Accepting this routine of his was getting easier and easier the more frequent he got to visit the Capitol. But it did not mean he liked it. He wanted nothing more than just get it all over with, anticipating that ride home in the next few days, anticipating of what Annie would say to him when he asks for forgiveness, _again_.

Swinging his front door open and crossing his porch, Finnick almost overlooked the elderly woman sitting in one of the chairs. He stopped abruptly and sighed, slightly feeling relieved with her presence.

"Mags."

He watched as she stood up and walked towards him, reaching for his arms for support. He willingly allowed her to do so. When she was finally stable on her feet, and as she had done so many times before—whenever he needed to attend to his trades, when he first woke up that one morning and dreamt of the fellow tributes he had killed during the Games, when he realized he didn't have a family except for her—Mags slowly caressed his face, exchanging unspoken words with him, blue eyes that read his green ones so easily. Finnick knew she'd be the only one who could understand this kind of pain.

"I'm sorry..." he managed to whisper, wanting nothing more than to let Mags know—even if in some ways, he knew that he didn't need to say anything. "For Annie..."

"She'll understand." Mags replied firmly.

"How can she?"

She smiled sadly, still caressing his face. "You just have to trust that she will."

Grasping her hand that held his face, Finnick closed his eyes, knowing too that Mags had noticed his wounded hand but didn't say anything. Instead, she let him weep. And he was grateful.

At passing, Finnick thought if this scenario would have been easier if Annie was the one on his side; if she was the one holding his face at this moment and saying that everything would be alright.

But a low punch to the gut told him otherwise. He knew it was impossible. Telling Annie the truth about his trades would make her hate him—will make her disgusted with him. And he had long established that he didn't want Annie to hate him; he wanted her to love him back if she could. _If she would allow it_.

Opening his eyes, Finnick tried to smile, forcing his lips to make that upward curve. "Here we go again, isn't it?"

"We do what we have to do, Finnick. Even if it complicates things." said Mags. "But you've almost changed something tonight, didn't you?"

Finnick snorted, "That's the thing, isn't? I almost did, but I didn't."

He suddenly realized how unfair the word _almost_ was. He'd _almost_ had it with her, he'd _almost_ made his life better, he'd _almost_ said that he loved her...

But heavens, he didn't.

"I was so, so close to telling her." Finnick continued, feeling the regret and the defeat all over again.

"You can always think of other ways." Mags smiled encouragingly at him.

"Not after this, I can't." He motioned to what he was about to do, to the suitcase just behind him, to the waiting car parked in front of the house. And fittingly, in the background, they could already hear Chivy climbing down the stairs, bombarding a slew of words only she can say.

"... this tardiness would cost me a lot, you know. You do realize, Finnick, that I have to tell the officers to double the speed of the train so we could make it? Are you even listening—Oh, hello Mags."

"Hello, Chivy."

They shared grim smiles for a while before Chivy continued past them, snatching a quick look towards him but generously giving him this moment with Mags. "Better hurry up."

With one last look at Mags, seeing the crinkles at the side of her eyes, the soft lines on her forehead, the calloused feel of her hands on his cheeks—the same hands that will comfort Annie after this night—Finnick pulled his suitcase and finally let her go, knowing he didn't have any other option. Slowly, he climbed down the porch and then to the car where Chivy was now in the driver's seat, tapping her fingers impatiently at the wheel.

After securing his things inside the trunk, and with a final nod—like a silent agreement between him and Mags, as if she was reading his mind and giving him some consolation: _we'll figure this out when you come back_—Finnick waved his hands to say goodbye.

* * *

><p>"So what do you think that was all about?" Johnny asked her. They were still at the beach, watching as the sun was already setting down. The kids have longed left them on their own, tagging along with their mothers as they went on their way home for dinner. Several torches lighted the beach but just in the middle of the strip, the huge fire pit was already ready for Johnny to light up any moment now.<p>

Annie and the others were still patiently waiting for Finnick and beside her she knew that Johnny was already anxious. He will light the Bonfire anytime now and it would be such a pity for Finnick to miss it, most especially when Johnny was the one in the limelight this time around.

"I don't know," Annie finally replied. "He said Chivy might discuss schedules with him."

"Schedules? _Oh_," Johnny scratched his head. "_Right_. He'll be busy again in the next weeks."

Annie frowned. "What do you mean?"

"_The Games_. It's in two weeks, Annie."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

She had forgotten about it. Surprisingly, it didn't even cross her mind since she had been with Finnick.

"I'm actually not too terrified of it now, would you believe it?" Johnny added, smiling despite himself.

On the other side of Annie, lying on the blanket, Linda snorted. "No, I can't, honestly."

Annie watched as Johnny rolled his eyes and made a face.

"Someday," Annie teased. "The two of you might find yourselves in a sticky situation and be surprised at how much of a team you could be."

"If you're talking about the Games..." Johnny started.

"No," Annie laughed, cutting him off. "Marriage."

"Eww!" Linda slapped her arm.

"Over my dead body, Cresta!" the other blonde retorted at her. "I'd rather _die_."

"Again," Annie reiterated. "You could surprise people."

"I'd be surprised if he does survive the Games."

"That's not funny, Simmons."

"You're not funny either, Pearson."

"_Arguing again?"_ Danny was walking towards them and hand in hand with Elizabeth, back from their stroll. They were watching the couple before Linda decided to lie down.

"Can't think of anything else they could do." Annie kidded.

"You know that gets tiring, right?" said Elizabeth, snuggling herself between Johnny and Annie and looping her arm around hers. Danny sat on the other side of Johnny.

"I never start it, you know." Johnny argued.

"Like you how you never win any argument?" Linda taunted.

"Tell that to yourself, Linda."

"I can't. I never lie to myself."

"_Kids_," Danny said, annoyed. "Stop, please."

Annie couldn't help but let a laugh escape, Elizabeth joining her.

"You know that this kind of hatred towards each other only leads to one thing, right?" Danny continued.

"What?" Johnny snapped.

With a laugh, Danny replied, "Marriage."

"That's what I said!"

"Okay," Linda sat up, "This is getting ridiculous. I will never, _like ever_, marry that airhead."

"Okay, keep telling yourself that," Johnny laughed. "_Pea-brain_."

"Maybe we should already set a date?" Elizabeth kidded. "Why not this next spring? We'd have plenty of flowers by then for the bouquet?"

"Wild flowers are lovely." Annie joined in, ignoring the grimace on Linda's face.

"Well then, should we tell Mr. Gray that he'd have another ceremony to lead after mine and Lizzie's?" Danny added, jokingly shaking Johnny by the shoulder.

"_Whatever._"

"Speaking of marriages," Linda scoffed but then looked elated. "Are you excited with yours, Lizzie?"

Elizabeth laughed heartily. "Not more than Danny."

"Why shouldn't I be?" he said then, giving Elizabeth a glowing look. "_I'd get to marry you_."

Annie shook her head and smiled, unable to resist feeling joyous for Danny and Elizabeth even if it was a tad bit too sweet for her. Still, watching them a while ago, as they tread the long stretch of the beach, Annie had felt her chest swell with happiness because it was such a scene—the way Danny looked at Elizabeth like she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen or the way Elizabeth smiled—so genuine, so affectionate—like she only wanted Danny to see it.

"Okay, I might just barf." Johnny teased.

"Say what you will, Pearson." Danny retaliated all the while lying on the sand. "But once you've come into the same position as me, you'd swallow back your words."

"Seriously," Linda rolled her eyes. "We should start planning. I would love to be a part of it."

"Of course you'll be a part of it." Elizabeth confirmed. "You and Annie, both. Johnny would take part as well, right?" She now eyed the curly blonde with an eyebrow raised.

"As long as I'm not the one getting married." Johnny agreed, receiving a playful shove from Danny.

They were silent for a while, with Danny still lying and whistling a tuneless melody. Johnny was now playing with a random twig he picked up and Elizabeth stared blankly at the now dark blue sky with only the remnants of the sun evident in the pink and orange clouds from afar.

From the nearby dock, a silhouette was approaching them—tall and familiar. David was carefully treading the beach sand, not at all masking the bored and rather uninterested expression on his face. Annie thought he must be angry with her. She didn't even have the chance to decline his invitation. Instead, she totally disregarded it. So Annie gave him a small and apologetic smile as he finally neared, wishing that she would have a chance to explain soon enough. He smiled back and nodded to her relief albeit taking his eyes off her immediately and turned towards Johnny.

"Hey, Pearson." David said. "It's time." With a nod to the rest of their group, David left quickly. Not even waiting if, indeed, Johnny had followed him.

"I think that's my cue." said Johnny soon after as he stood up. He gave them a mock salute and a bow (Elizabeth laughed) before walking away. But not a second too long, Johnny stopped and turned around, with a frown on his face. "I know Finnick's running late, but I'd really like to run my speech with him before the ceremony. Would you tell him to meet me there at the pit if he returns?"

"_When_ he returns." Danny corrected as he sat up. "Sure, I'll tell him."

Annie tried to ignore the sudden tug she felt but not at all ignorant on the slightly tighter grip Elizabeth now had on her arms or of Linda's equally tight smile. She didn't dare look back at either of them but continued to gaze on the horizon.

Breathing hard, she told herself that today was going to be different and she knew that Finnick will come back, just as he promised. Still without glancing back at her friends, she heard Danny voice her thoughts, easing some of that doubt she knew they all felt.

"I'm sure he'll return."

Annie smiled as he said it. She wasn't entirely certain of it, but that was all she could hope for.

* * *

><p>(My Heart Broke Loose on the Wind)<p>

"So he left?"

"What?"

"Odair." David grumbled as he helped Johnny set up the torch he'll use for the lighting ceremony. "I saw him leave."

"Chivy Dweller came by." Johnny nodded at him. "Looks important."

"What about Annie?" he could not help himself from asking.

"What about her?"

"Aren't they... _together_?"

Johnny didn't respond but took the torch away from him instead, grabbing a matchbox in the process. The blonde ogled nonsensically at the equipment on his hand.

"I mean," David argued, resting his hands on his waist. "Why would he leave?"

Johnny looked stern (possibly irritated with the way he'd been interfering) but then exhaled. "Look, Gray. Maybe you should think broader about it, you know, _like_ _the world does not revolve around District Four_. And maybe, there are more important things than the Bonfire right now."

David believed that because it was true. He was not ignorant with what was going to happen in the next weeks. The Hunger Games will be Finnick's business, as usual. But what could not escape him was Annie.

"And so he just left her?"

"He didn't _just_ leave her." Johnny rolled his eyes. "He'll be back for the Bonfire."

David wanted to laugh at that. Far from him although still in sight, he could see Annie right where she was sitting for the past few hours with her friends. Their number didn't seem to grow and it was apparent that Finnick was not there. He wanted to tease Johnny for the false hope from Odair but as he looked back, the blonde was also staring at his friends, frowning and searching.

"Well," David cleared his throat, pulling himself away from that thought and noticing several Four guards approaching them finally. "You better hope he's somewhere in there because you're about to light the bonfire."

Johnny huffed seeing the nearing District Guards as well.

For a moment there, David actually felt bad for him. For the first time since Finnick won the Games, Johnny finally had the spotlight and not at all inside the shadows of Finnick Odair—and it was a pity that the Victor wasn't even there to witness it.

David watched as the guards pulled Johnny away and whispered last minute instructions. Then with the sound of the drums, the people scattered on the beach started to close in on the pit, some with torches or sparklers of their own. He saw Annie and Linda among the sea of people with Danny and Elizabeth following them from behind.

And then fittingly, as if rubbing more salt to the wound that was this day, Annie stood right directly in front of him, the unlit bonfire between them. Their eyes met and he thought she froze for a moment, caught-off guard, but then relaxed and quickly gave him another one of her small smiles. Despite feeling so undefeated and disappointed—with her, with himself—he smiled back, even if realizing at this point at how truly he felt horrible that this day ever happened and that even if Finnick was nowhere in sight, staring back at Annie didn't get easier.

Slightly nearer to the pit and taking his eyes off away from her, possibly for the first time the whole afternoon, he saw Johnny taking his place accompanied by two District Guards. Everywhere else, the people started to settle as well—tiptoeing to view the pit, squirming between bodies to get a good view.

He looked nervous, David thought. Johnny had some sweat forming on his forehead illuminated by the fiery torch in his hand. He gulped once in a while before clearing his throat, looking around nervously, before starting to speak.

"_As... as this summer night ends_," Johnny stuttered to the crowd as he read off from a piece of paper from his other hand. "_We remember those whom we have lost during the Last War; of how they fought for what they believed in and of how they trusted no one else but themselves. Let this fire remind us of that courage—that even in the face of defeat, we can conquer. Let this fire lighten our way towards the righteous path where there is no fear, or defects, or decay. Let this fire, the fire within the sea masters of District Four, prove that even all the unchartered waters cannot extinguish the flame of life within every soul..._"

The ceremony was becoming poignant (as it always did) and David would give it to Johnny for writing such an opening. He was quite wary of the guards who stood still amidst the melancholy crowd but David knew, with a slight confidence and swell in his chest, that the Bonfire Haul was this little piece of time in Panem only District Four owned. And David thought that outsiders didn't matter and didn't belong at least for this night. He only hoped that Johnny wouldn't cross the line and mention the Capitol lest he wanted a beating. Nonetheless, as he listened as Johnny was finishing his speech, the fortunate Haul winner looked even more and more confident that David was certain if the guards reprimanded him, it seemed like he wouldn't care.

"_... even if people become unforgiving or unfair; even if at times you find yourself disappointed and discouraged, don't be. If you think that you don't matter to anyone, so what? Let yourself matter to you. Because you are here today, and every day you have the chance to be better—to be great. So I say to all of you—my acquaintances, my friends, my family—start living. Because when you do, you will be a fire that will forever be ablaze._"

The crowd remained silent as Johnny proceeded with the ritual. He finally lighted the bonfire, going around the huge pit and once in a while poking his torch on the logs to set it on fire. When the entirety of the pit was finally crackling and the huge fire lighted the dark beach, everyone erupted into applause, cueing the band to start beating their drums and cymbals and strum some guitars. Familiar music started to fill the shore and the others now started to throw in their own torches all the while bringing in bread and meat for the customary roasting.

Still in view from where he was (as he ignored the laughter and the jokes beginning to envelop him), David watched as Linda started with her own roast and handed her best friend her own piece of bread. He thought Annie looked lovely—how the fire made her hair look more like a deep reddish brown and how the warmth also subtly put color on her cheeks—even if he was so sure that she was waiting for Finnick, what with her glancing every now and then to the distant shore or sometimes to the now full docks, possibly expecting Finnick to appear in any second.

In the pit of his stomach, David felt that same sadness and embarrassment that tormented him for so many days now. And yet as he stared at her, even if painfully so, he wanted to punch himself for even thinking of how he wanted her to search for him the way she was now looking for any signs of Finnick. Breathing hard, David urged himself to get away and distance himself finally from the crowd and most especially from Annie, disappointed though at the fact that he hated this waiting game with her but at the same time knowing deep inside of how much he could foolishly stare at her all night and wonder when he can ever stop.

He walked through the less crowded side of the beach, wanting to at least forget about Annie and this day and mend something in him he knew was hurting. He sat on the farthest part of the dock, more darkened yet quieter, and started to pray for some miracle to happen: whether to forget about Finnick and Annie or to finally find that resolve that perhaps, _he_ was not the one meant to be; that in the scheme of things, he was the one on the background.

So he found it curious (albeit arousing something inside him)—in the quietness of this spot, wondering too if his hearing was playing games on him, as he sat more firmly, searching for that noise and then there—somewhere in the distant, so familiar and yet so foreign at this time of the night, a bullet train sped off soundly from the District Four station, vibrating and roaring furiously as it did—rattling as if wanting to shake his footprints on the sand or possibly disrupt the quiet breathing of those who chose this melancholy side of the beach with him.

David tried to lean unto something despite the nothingness that surrounded him, wanting to grab a hold of a wall, or a branch, or a tree—_something_—and ensure that he wasn't becoming delirious; because a train speeding off at this time was so, so curious and yet _so appropriate_; the rattling was still suspended in the air, making him realize how there never was a time he had loved the sound of it any more than this night.

* * *

><p>But as Annie would have it, as she took her gaze away from the now lit bonfire and looked up at the moon waning behind the thick clouds—<em>as she still waited for Finnick to finally show up<em>—she felt as if the train tracks—hooting and charging at the wind—began and ended right where she was standing on the beach, quivering to wake her from the dream she let herself believe to be real.

* * *

><p>(So At Last You Sleep In The Circle Of My Arms)<p>

"_What the fuck?"_

Finnick entered the room and slammed the door shut, unafraid of the noise it would make and of the possible remarks from the neighbors. He was even barely aware of the dimmed lights and the smell of bitter tea as there was only one thing on his mind at the moment. He was not supposed to be there.

He arrived in the Capitol just in time. Klaus DeMonch was already waiting on the platform as he always did whenever Finnick had to attend his trades. He apologized for the short notice, overlooking the promise he made in his letter about Finnick's assured attendance for the Bonfire, but insisted that his trader for tonight was of important position and was one of his regulars. So he did not need to be nervous at his appearance—glancing so quickly on Finnick's wrapped hand. Then with nothing but a curt nod, DeMonch left quickly, jotting down notes on his notebook as he did.

"Calm down." The other person in the room finally spoke, unperturbed and continued to stir on the sickly hot tea presumably for the two of them. But Finnick was impatient. How could he calm down?

He strode the short distance and grabbed her arm—violet in the darkened lights, cold but familiar—and swung his hostess to face him.

"Why Analeigh? Why are you doing this to me?"

Without a bat of an eyelid or a twitch of an eyebrow, Analeigh Whisparks spoke of the one truth he knew all along—the one he kept at bay and denied all throughout his trip.

It was his doing. It was his fault.

"Finnick, I just saved you from ruining Annie Cresta's life."

* * *

><p>It seemed like the wind turned colder by the minute. People were dispersing and the West Beach suddenly became eerie and bleak—a contrast to its warm and familiar atmosphere during the Bonfire. A District guard was addressing everyone to pack up and clean the mess while his partner, Annie assumed, was hosing down the large fire pit Johnny ceremoniously lit.<p>

This was it.

Another day was dawning and yet Annie felt as if her day hadn't even started yet. And how funny was it for her to even think this day could possibly be great. Linda had longed since left her (albeit insisting for a while that she should come with her), wanting to have an early tuck-in in favor for an early morning rouse with Elizabeth and the wedding planning the next day.

Danny decided to close the shack while Elizabeth headed home, all used plates and tumblers packed inside the basket for her to clean.

Johnny was the only one who patiently sat by her side for a couple more minutes, knowing that like her, he was still mourning the fact that Finnick wasn't with them to celebrate the Bonfire. They were both quiet but Annie assumed that the silence comforted them. She didn't have any idea on how to console Johnny in the same way he might not know how to console her. Together, they felt miserable.

Annie wanted to think that it was not Finnick's fault. She tried to reason for his absence but couldn't quite put it together. He couldn't have known that Chivy Dweller would come by, could he? And he did say he wanted to spend the festival with her and Annie didn't doubt his elation when Johnny won.

Maybe he got stuck in a meeting with Chivy for the Games, she thought. Maybe it was a strategy he needed to do in order to secure a win for Four. Maybe he wanted to go back but he couldn't. Maybe a few minutes after the meeting he already wanted to go back but Chivy didn't allow him. Maybe she didn't give him any choice—_but why wouldn't she give him a choice?_ Everyone loved to be on the good side of Finnick. He was important (something she had vaguely recognized up until that point) to Panem. He was _Finnick Odair_.

Then there it was. Those two simple words that made Annie go back to square one. _Finnick Odair_.

He was everything she remembered him to be when this day had started—shy yet confident, funny but smart—then slowly becoming something much more as the day progressed. So much so that quite suddenly, as he departed the beach with that bright yet disconcerting smile, she started to realize she could have spent the entire day with a stranger. And it was as if she could hear the awful words of the market vendors and the fishermen once again, words that traveled with the salty winds of Four, faint but still there.

_Three women, last I heard_.

'_Says there were five_.

_He's a piece of work, I tell you that._

_Munching down the Capitol people like they're meat._

_I hope he'd have his feast in here sometimes_.

Was she first on his list, then?

Around her the beach grew darker as there were now lesser lit torches and the fire pit now crackled down to nothing but a hiss. Struggling like her but recoiling too soon, Johnny started to move and stood up.

"He's not coming back, Annie."

"I guess not."

"Do you want to try his house?"

Annie wanted to laugh. She had this feeling he won't be there either and she didn't feel like wanting to see him now. She only felt stupid. She felt stupid and used and she can't seem to do anything but recollect everything that had happened since this morning, even if it seemed like a thousand years ago.

She wished, she hoped, she _prayed_ that he would turn up, not just because he was Finnick and he was her friend, but because she didn't want to hate him for not turning up at all. Annie didn't want to be disappointed in him— not again—not when she thought they were rebuilding a semblance of friendship; not when everything was so undecided and unsure given the events in the next weeks.

Because she knew, if the odds weren't in her favor, she'd have to face him. And facing him after this was worse than being in the Games. Annie couldn't help but think of how naive she must look to him. How shallow and how desperate she might had been falling into his mock invitation.

He was a good actor, Annie thought. He was the _Finnick Odair_.

"No." Annie finally able to reply. She didn't dare look at Johnny, worried that she might see the same resentment on his face—worse, the acceptance that very much well dawned on him.

"I'm sure he's just caught up in something."

"Maybe."

"Are you going to stay here?"

"For a little while, yes."

He crouched down once again beside her. "Are you sure? I mean it's late..."

"I'll be fine, Johnny."

Leaving her with a nod and a soft pat on the shoulder, Johnny walked away. And as he did, she finally couldn't help let a small sob escape. She hoped she could be more like Johnny—more forgiving, more hopeful, more trusting.

Didn't he just ask her to be that? To be trusting?

"_You trust me?"_

But how can she trust someone she didn't know? He was not the same Finnick she knew. He might still look like _him_, but she barely knew him at all.

Annie cried—of embarrassment, of sadness, of hopelessness. She wanted to cry for the lost Finnick probably taken away by the heavy waves of the Capitol. She wanted to cry for his parents and for her mother and for the other lives ruined by the selfish world they all live in.

She let slip a tear and felt it run down her cheeks, thinking it was the only thing she could allow herself to do because she was just so tired of waiting for him; accepting now, fully, that Finnick wouldn't come and that he never will.

* * *

><p>But unknown to her, somewhere a few feet away, a young man with probably the same sentiments as her, and not because of Finnick but because of <em>her<em>, thought otherwise. There were a lot of things to do; a lot of things to fix. Hesitant at first but thinking this was another chance for him and he was not going to ruin it because if he choked, if he hesitated, _it was over_...

So not again, not this time.

"Annie?" David finally said as he neared.

Annie looked up at him, surprised; slightly alarmed perhaps because of her ashen and tear-stricken face.

"What are you doing here?" he pretended not to know but of course he knew.

She gave him a smile and a small shrug. She looked back into the ocean and did not speak.

David didn't know what to do at first and knowing too that he wasn't the person she was waiting for. But that shouldn't stop him, shouldn't it? He was the one who showed up after all. Not Finnick.

"I know it's rude to pry on other people's business," David finally continued. "But it seems to me that you look rather un-picturesque here."

No response.

"It's getting late." Which was true. "Are you waiting for someone?" she flinched but did not budge.

David sighed.

Looking down at her fixated gaze in the ocean, it was as if she'd rather be with the waves than with him. It could possibly even be true. David currently didn't have any idea what was going through inside that lovely head of hers. If he were to ask himself several years ago, he would have thought that that he'd only have such a chance with her. He wasn't a _Finnick Odair_. But as he had observed her throughout the afternoon, he knew. He knew, finally and fittingly, that he could do something; because Annie, with her warmth and cheerfulness gone because of the cold, needed only one thing.

Not wasting any more time as he had done so, so many times, David crouched down to meet her at eye level, he offered a smile, a hand...

"Let's go home?"

It wasn't a mere question. It was an invitation. An invitation long overdue; an invitation thwarted on the side by Finnick Odair on that night at the porch.

David knew, as Annie finally snapped out from her reverie and looked at him clearly for the first time that night, he knew he had this one weapon Finnick didn't possess: Certainty.

Annie grabbed his hand as he helped her up. He clasped it tightly, not to mark his territory but to simply keep her close by, David thought of a silent thank you to whoever it was up there because finally, finally, _finally_, he did it.

Still not letting her hand go (and wishing she wouldn't for the succeeding days, months, and years), he and Annie walked hand-in-hand along the cold and darkened West Beach, grasping perhaps on the only hope they had at the moment. And David thought that anyone who was left cleaning up the debris of the Bonfire Haul would probably overlook their almost strained appearance—her watery eyes, his pulsating and trembling temples—as they would only probably allude this vision of them, a lovely couple walking side by side on the shore, as something most fitting to top such an eventful day.

Although despite this, with a low grumble and a swift brush of cold wind, it started to rain.

* * *

><p>AN: So after almost two years of no updates, I've finally made it. Reviews would be very welcome. :)


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